An Unlikely Story
by SalvaVeritate
Summary: But the fucked up thing about it is, I wake up wanting her. I wake up wishing the woman beside me had dark brown hair and piercing emerald eyes. Then I turn to my other side and see a corpse. And everything starts all over again.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any CI movie related characters and such.**

**Date written: January - October 2006**

**Hello, everyone! It has now been 8 or so years since I first signed up here and created Alea Iacta Est. I have been getting private messages from some very nice readers who sometimes ask me to update and sometimes they ask me where the sequel to AIE went. I am very sorry to say that in a fit of craziness and displeasure at my own work (I was very young and temperamental back then), I deleted BGA and it has now gone into heaven.**

**I hadn't realized that so many people still wondered about what had happened to Kathryn, Sebastian, Mathieu, Belinda, and Nikolai and I just deleted it because I remember being very frustrated about the story. I apologize very much and in order to somehow make up for this douchebag move, here is a story I'd written and subsequently deleted under a different account.**

**Some of you will find this story familiar. Some of you may have already read it and you may not have known that it was also from me. For some of you, it will still be very new. Either way, should you decide to read it, I hope you will like it. Each chapter is insanely long (3000+ words!), and I'll try and clean it up a bit before posting. I am very busy with work now, so sometimes I will post a new chapter and sometimes I will try and post more. Either way, this story is finished so don't worry. I also won't delete it anymore. Hahaha**

**Thank you to those amazing readers who still send me messages despite the fact that I have been inactive for a while. It is nice to hear from you all!**

**Also, I would very much like to thank oneamsoundstage for providing me with a copy of this story. When I deleted this back then, I also did not keep a copy of this and am now very glad that she was kind enough to save this from being sent to heaven. Let us all thank her for being kind enough to help me resurrect this story. She may or may not have gone all "Don't delete this again, %$#&*." on me. It's okay that's how she usually talks. Hahahaha**

**An Unlikely Story**

**One**

The sunlight snarls upon me with its cheery disposition and blinding yellow light as it pierces through my closed lids. Even though it was quite apparent that it was yet another signal for me to begin another tedious day, I refuse to open my eyes. I'm quite contented with lying down in my bed, thank you very much.

"Sebastian," I stir, turning at the sound of the voice and wondering what the fuck Kathryn was doing in my bed when I hadn't seen nor spoken to her since Annette died. Certain that this must be one of those ridiculously impossible hangovers; I give an imperceptible groan and shift on my side, towards the voice. My hand reaches out to reclaim the empty space on my blue and white mattress when to my chagrin; it lands on a smooth, curvy body that was most definitely a woman's.

My eyes shoot open and I find myself staring at the back of her head, its dark curtain of tresses tickling her backside. What was Kathryn doing with black hair? Why was it longer? Why did she look different? Nevertheless, I remain undaunted by these thoughts. In my newly awoken mind (a somewhat tabula rasa especially after a particularly hard night of partying with my stepsister), these musings weren't important. I didn't remember what had happened the other night, and frankly enough, I didn't care. If Kathryn Merteuil was lying beside me, muttering my name like a soft prayer, I didn't care at all.

But my rational mind tells me that I should care, that I should place my hand on her back and push her off the bed instead of attempting to bring her closer to me. As my rational mind takes a few minutes to reacquaint itself with my usual standoffish attitude, I let myself indulge in a little morning uncharacteristic affection with her. I let myself forget.

The moment of forgetting never lasts long though. I never let myself get lost in it that much. I didn't deserve it.

Why was I supposed to hate her?

Oh yes, she killed my girlfriend. She was a murderer, a traitor. The serpent from the Garden of Eden disguised in the form of a beautiful, vicious woman who tempted innocent Annette Hargrove and made her pay the price for something she knew nothing about.

The woman I considered to be her moves slightly under my touch.

"Good morning." murmurs a sweet voice laced with weariness as well and suddenly I freeze.

The fog clears itself from my hungover mind and I jerk up to process my surroundings, seeming to realize for what seemed like the first time that I wasn't in my room. At least, not the one in New York. The walls are different, the ornate mahogany desk that had been my usual place when I wrote in my journal was gone, and even the silk sheets wrapped around my legs were different.

I am in Monte Carlo.

This is not Kathryn.

And that's when everything comes rushing back. The bet. Annette. Kathryn. Finding fulfillment in a new life with the former only to have to latter come in and ruin it by making me love her again. Not always, but _again_. My mind becomes a video player gone haywire, planting random memories in my head as if chastising me for my lack of memory.

_ "I love you, Sebastian." Annette's peaceful smile bordering on dreamy. Her fierce opinions, her kind heart, her blonde hair, her blue eyes._

Then it shifts to a slightly twisted memory that had probably started it all.

_"Well, I'm not sleeping in that room!" Kathryn screamed, looking every inch of the spoiled princess brat that she was. Her heels clicked around the room while she paced back and forth, her face hard and embittered and her mouth turned down. "Have some compassion, Valmont, my room's fucking flooded. If I slept there now, you'd see my dead, drowned body floating inside the next day."_

_I smirked, "Do you swear it? Because I'm going to set my alarm clock to go off next week, giving the water ample time to rush through your rather talented mouth and ultimately kill you."_

_"You have no idea how talented my mouth is." she returned snidely, somehow the snarky response has become our tradition over the years. "And you'll never have the chance to know exactly, especially if you refuse to let me sleep on your bed." _

_My eyebrows rose._

_Her sharp gaze caught the change in my expression and she glared at me, "Oh, shut up. Look, I don't like the idea either, but the fact of the matter is, this house is too small. If there are actually rooms available, it's covered with blankets and a thin layer of dust. Now, my next option would be to sleep on the couch in the living room and had my stupid mother not forgotten the fact that we would be arriving in this stupid Hamptons house two days ahead of her and your fornicating father, then maybe she wouldn't have had the servants arrive the same day they did!" _

_"The couches seemed quite comfortable." I commented, leaning back against the bed and smirking at her._

_"Yes, they are. Which is exactly why you'll be a complete gentleman and let me sleep on your bed while you slumber peacefully on the couch."_

_"Like hell I am!"_

_"Okay, look." she huffed, striding across the room and plopping her petite body on the other side of the bed before I could protest. "Here's the truth. Ever since you've decided to diddle Ms. Mary Poppins and remain infuriatingly loyal to her, I've lost my interest in you."_

_ My expression darkened and shade before I could think, and she immediately saw it, sneering a bit._

_"I don't like this either, but I'm going to have to sleep on your bed tonight." She rolled her eyes, grabbing the largest pillow and using it as a divider. "And since you're the poster boy for rudeness and insensitivity, you're going to either get off or you're going to stop being such a whiny bitching fag and just sleep. Newsflash, Valmont. I'm not going to try and seduce you simply because you've proven the fact that, from your role as the hot ill reputed player of Manchester Prep to pussywhipped clichéd reformed bad boy saved by a virginal hick, you're simply not worth the trouble."_

_"Only because you know you'll never have me." I shot back, glaring at the pillow that obscured her upper body._

_ "Au contraire, dear brother." she snapped without bothering to turn around. "It's you who'll never have me."_

_"That's because I don't want you anymore." _

_"Glad to know." she replied sarcastically, "Now shut up, I'm trying to sleep."_

And again, it stops right there into something that has both been the component of my dreams and nightmares.

An imperfect weekend comprised of a single perfect day. Brown hair and guilt, skin on skin, sinning and sex.

_"You're leaving me! The least you could do is give me a damn reason!"_

_"I already told you why. I'm not-I thought I was ready for a commitment..."_

I feel the sharp sting of a slap as if her ghost had stood throughout the entire night and watched me fuck the woman beside me and was now letting me feel her wrath, it wakes me up completely and the woman beside me turns around.

Her dark blue eyes cloud over for a moment before peering curiously at me, her lips were parted open and raven hair falling across a bare breast. Then I jerk my hand off of her, this wasn't part of our arrangement.

This wasn't part of the rules.

I blink again, slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity for the next couple of seconds, realizing the oddity of the situation. There's a certain degree of parallelism to be found in this situation, the woman beside me was my new stepsister, only a year younger than me (although it's nearly impossible to tell when she's got her hands down my pants). Amanda St. Claire, a seventeen year old gorgeous young woman that had her predecessor's (when it came to my stepsiblings of the past, (and if you knew my father, you wouldn't be bothered by this idea because it's the kind of man he is)) cold sense of detachment, some of her cunning, and perhaps a smidgen of her charm.

She stares at me for a couple of minutes before I realize that she was waiting for an answer.

"Morning, Amanda."

For a moment I wonder if she sees through me. I wonder if she views the memories through my eyes, like watching a television show of my past. I do the same to her, although I already know her story. Her ghostly pale skin stands in contrast to the darkness of her hair, the blues of her irises, and the soft pinkness of her perfect little nipples that seemed to beg for attention the way she secretly did.

The moment she feels me scrutinizing her, she averts her gaze. We speak not of emotions of our past, of lost chances and hidden anguish simply because we both believe that it would color us weak. Amanda had her own demons to battle, her own emotions to compress into a box that she hopes would grow smaller and smaller with every drug she snorts and every man she fucks until it completely disappears.

Amanda loved someone once. Not the needy kind of love, not the one for convenience or power. I don't fully know the details of everything as it had only been a year since we became legally related. All I knew was that for all her wealth, beauty and accomplishments, she was as hollow as they go. It made sense that we would continually fuck whenever our parents weren't around, whenever she slipped into my room or I in hers, there would be no terms of endearment or such bullshit.

There were no false promises of commitment since we both knew neither of us were capable of such a thing. No, with her, sex was sex. It was fucking, it wasn't about the romantic way of making love or consuming lust, it was about hating the past and living with it. It was about taking out all your aggressions and turning into passion, because in essence, isn't that where it all began? My relationship with Amanda was about having someone fill you up until the numbness goes away for a while. And when I was with her and every other woman I chose to bed, it did.

It did. It went away.

But the fucked up thing about it is, I wake up wanting her. I wake up wishing the woman beside me had dark brown hair and piercing emerald eyes. Then I turn to my other side and see a corpse.

And everything starts all over again.

When my father divorced Tiffany to marry Beatrice St. Clair, I took it as a chance to get away from the Merteuils. I had already graduated from Manchester Prep and was all set to go to Harvard with Kathryn, we both planned for this. It was our future, she had said while she laid against me, her body slightly warm and her breath raising the temperature to my skin. It had been just a few weeks shy of leaving high school, and we'd acquiesced to spending almost every night together.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. How incredibly uncharacteristic of us, the player and the bitch planning their future together as if nothing else mattered. How out of character, how out of place we both were with each other. Well, fuck you. When I had been with her, all the wrongs that built up with every piece of clothing shed, with every immoral kiss, every illegal tryst, every look, touch, kiss, and all that stood in between, everything became rationalized into our own version of truth.

Even the fact that I had a girlfriend, the very same one who'd managed to dig up my conscience. And Annette Hargrove did dig deep. Let me tell you about her and about how she managed to incite so much remorse from me. No, it's not going to be something foolishly sentimental and all that drivel. But then again, that's what you probably expected to hear, right?

Before you go all nauseous, let me clarify a couple of things. First of which is that I loved her. There. I said it. I loved Annette Hargrove. I first preyed on her innocence and then reveled upon it, she was, in a matter of speaking, my Présidente de Tourvel as I was the Vicomte that had fallen prey into that ludicrous trap. I thought I had seen everything there was to see in life, and then there it was.

The lighter side of things, the only other female to have resisted me. I'm not going to lie to you; I had been ready to leave Kathryn for her because I had been so convinced at that moment that this was the only way to keep me from dropping into the pitfalls of a meaningless life.

But Kathryn, of all people, changed that.

"I'll see you at the party tonight?" said the female (my newest stepsister) about to head for the door, a single white sheet wrapped around her body.

I nod and smile at her, indulging in her airy persona. A high school senior at one of the most prestigious prep schools, Amanda was (what a shocker) the most sought after girl and undoubtedly the most hated as well. Like Kathryn, she backstabbed and clawed her way to the top and stayed there smiling and nodding pleasantly while she was at it.

Though you might think that I'm simply trying to replace my former stepsister, it isn't entirely the case. Amanda St. Clair and Kathryn Merteuil, though similar in a way, are completely different people. It was tantamount to comparing two shades of color that might look the same but in reality aren't.

"I'll bring a date." I smirk and she rolls her eyes, never appearing possessive of me. She knows me, she knows that while I may not look like it when we're in bed, I do have my limits.

"So will I." Amanda replies, smirking back.

And I lean back grabbing my notebook thoughtfully before opening to a random page. For a minute I indulge in a little light reading, pausing thoughtfully to scan the first few sentences when my eyes darken.

_Perhaps I have assumed too much, too soon. I don't know what it is that's changed, but somehow everything seems different. That one night with Kathryn would have been a great triumph, if not the greatest (topping even Annette), and I should have left it at that. Conquering Mt. Everest should be a one time thing, because too much can burn you out easily. I find that my life has become a shallow pool of debauchery and deceit, and I intended to look for something more substantial. That's what I have with Annette, a relationship with no games, no mindfucks and no mockery. I should be contented (at least to a certain degree because after all, this is what I left my old life for, right?), but I'm not._

_I have bitten the poisoned apple Eve has offered and I want the whole fucking thing._

I flip again, the pages turning faster until my scrawls are gibberish at first sight. Then I'm done. I can't read it anymore, I close it and shut my eyes, letting the well worn companion of mine lie dormant beside me while I allow myself the darkness of sleep.

-0-0-0-

Hours later and after a couple of quick fucks with those insipid airhead bimbos, I down my fourth scotch and spot Amanda a couple of feet away. Her eyes (the color of the ocean when a storm is brewing) flash animatedly and she places a hand on her date's wrist. I hide a smile behind my glass and she catches it, while her date paused to charm Beatrice St. Clair (although now St. Clair-Valmont), she takes a quick look around to give me the finger and I jerk my head slightly, motioning for her to come over.

The truth was, she's the only person in these exorbitantly done charity events worth talking to. Amanda and I understand in each other. We both know our own stories and weaknesses that we'd rather keep between ourselves. Sometimes I think if she wasn't there I would have fucked God knows how many women just to make me forget.

Amanda nods slightly and gives another polite smile (which roughly translated to "Fuck you, you stupid moron.") to the adoring company and strides over to me, planting a sisterly kiss on my cheek before ordering a glass of vodka from the bartender.

"Strong stuff." I comment, glancing over at her and watching in fascination as the ice makes a slight tinkling sound while she slowly spins the glass into a small circle.

"Have you seen this party?" the raven haired girl that was to be the object of lust at the party answered, drinking it in one easy gulp (and making it look quite graceful, which leads me to another assumption: There's a lot of Kathryn in this young woman.) "I need it."

My mouth turns up into a smile and I say nothing, we remain silent for a while, preferring to observe the crowd and mocking them when she starts talking again.

"So where's your date tonight, my darling stepbrother?"

"Left her." I shrugged, "Will you be my date?"

She clucks her tongue, her dark eyebrows slowly knitting together. As she places her glass down, she touches my wrist and I see a gleam in her eyes.

"Now what would it look like if I started kissing you all of a sudden?" she asks, laughing at my offhanded comment. "No, I'm going to find you a date to screw tonight, because I for one would hate to see you all alone in bed while I get my brains fucked out by a very experienced Anthony."

"Good luck." I mutter, not really taking her seriously. I discreetly glance at my watch before picking up my refilled drink. The alcohol was already getting to me, and all I was thinking about was getting some sleep.

After today's many excursions, I wasn't really in the mood for sex.

"There." Amanda points to a tall, lithe woman with legs that never ended. I recognized her as some supermodel but quickly rejected the notion.

"She's gay."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Are you serious?"

"I saw her eating out Jacklyn Foster while I was looking for a room earlier."

"So that's why she always talked to me during these functions..." Undeterred, her determined eyes scan the crowd while I pay more attention to the idea of my bed and sleep. She was obviously trying to get me someone suitable, and then she gives a sharp inhalation when she notices someone from the entrance.

"There." she says, satisfied. "She's really pretty. Although I've never seen her before."

"Give it up, Amanda." I sigh; more contented with staring at the amber liquid swirling around the glass than to avert my gaze to the woman she was looking at.

"Oh, she's looking here." Amanda smiles that smile of hers, the one that graces the students of her school whenever she wants something and gets it. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she drops her mask for a moment or two and speaks.

"Come on, Sebastian. Let's forget for a while." she murmurs, her voice echoing the sadness and anger we both felt. "Sometimes this is the only way."

My resolve melts at her tone, it was earnest and understanding. It was full of comprehension for someone her age even though I was only a year or two older than her, I felt centuries old sometimes. I think it's because I saw too much of life in such a short period of time that I easily got tired. Finally deciding to humor her and show my appreciation for her good intentions, I glance at her as she pulls away and I smile back. When she sees my mouth curve and my teeth show, she knows that it doesn't reach my eyes.

But then again, her smile was the same.

"Good." she whispers, "Because she's looking at you right now."

I smirk and tip my drink into my mouth, hoping for one last fuel of alcohol before I screw the said woman into oblivion. My eyes follow Amanda's until it stops.

And time stops.

My hand stops from tipping my drink down my throat.

(Yet I remain parched for it even more now.)

My eyes don't blink.

(I hunger for a sight I haven't seen in a while.)

Amanda doesn't notice that I've stopped moving and continues to talk, yet her voice is now distant in my ears.

"In fact, I don't think she's even invited in here. Probably a gatecrasher or a social climber of some sort.

But she's certainly beautiful, I love her hair, it's such a lovely shade of brown." she muses to herself while all thoughts from my head fled.

And time suddenly begins again, but this time it's in a slower pace.

My fingers had been gripping the glass so tightly it's a wonder I didn't break it. Now my grip has slackened and the cold liquid that was to be my ticket to a long and dreamless sleep splatters on my shoes while the glass breaks and ice melts on the wooden floor. Amanda gives a small shriek of surprise, but I don't hear her.

I've gone deaf and so very still at the sight of Kathryn Merteuil.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just because it has been ages since I wrote here. Thank you all again! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Ever since the incident happened, I've always wondered about two things.

The first was if the nightmares would ever stop. I always think about when the sight of Annette's blood forming a puddle on the floor would drain out of my memory the way it had been drained from her body.

The second question I've asked myself since I left was what I would do if I ever saw Kathryn again.

When I asked myself that, I didn't think it would be soon. I didn't think it would be tonight, of all nights. Amanda senses my sudden anxiety and momentarily bites back the expletive that was about to come from her mouth. She knows that I wasn't easily ruffled and from this, she slowly gains an understanding as to why I was suddenly rendered immobile and mute.

I watch transfixed, while Kathryn gives her a collected appraisal, breaking our gaze while she sizes up the young woman beside me. Her beautiful face betrays no emotion while she gives Amanda a once over from afar. I can feel her presence as though she were standing inches from me, she had that unique combination of frost and warmth and right now, I feel myself getting burned and frozen.

A confusing notion, I suppose. You would have to feel it for yourself to understand that this sensation can't be described by any other words so as to portray it acutely. I suddenly have the sense of urgency to try to protect my stepsister from her, she's already killed the only other woman who'd managed to capture my attention and hold it there for a certain period of time (longer than usual), and finally tearing my eyes away from the formfitting silk dark green dress that brought out her predator-like eyes, I look at Amanda and am not surprised to see that instead of shrinking away like some insipid high school girl, she stares back with equal coldness at Kathryn. For a while, I'm tempted to leave the two and disappear again, but I'm not a coward.

We all had to face our demons sometime, and my own was standing a few feet away from us.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder and already, I feel two holes burning at the side of my cheek while I face Amanda.

As she meets my gaze, a small concerned frown immediately covers her forehead. "That's her, isn't it?"

I nod and Kathryn still doesn't bat an eyelash. Her expression doesn't change, it had the same quality of impassive deadness I had worn myself for the past year. Amanda's mouth turns up into a small smile and she snuggles closer to me, obviously getting a kick out of making Kathryn jealous.

I don't even feel the gentle weight of her head leaning against me. My heart has begun beating so hard I can barely hear myself think, fight or flee. Fight or flee.

_"You got into Harvard?" she asked, barging into my room without bothering to knock. In one hand she held a bottle of champagne, and in the other she held an opened envelope with the university's logo on it and a pleased smile on her usually scowling (at least when it came to me) face._

_I paused for a moment to admire the toned muscles on her smooth calves while she crossed the room with ease. Judging from her expression and the fact that she'd been waiting and working hard to get into at least every Ivy League university since she could manipulate and use her assets with ease, she got into everything she'd applied to. It didn't really surprise me, what did surprise me was her exuberant expression since it made her look like a little girl._

_I found it engagingly charming._

_She looked at me curiously and I suddenly realized that I'd been staring at her while I drifted off into my musings. As I smirked at her, she grabbed the edge of the desk and placed herself on my lap, where my arms immediately welcomed the warmth of her body. Kathryn placed the bottle and the letter on my desk, her soft mouth slightly puckered and half smiling when I started rubbing my fingers down the sides of her hips._

_"Mmm…" she murmured, leaning back against me and closing her eyes. "Stop distracting me."_

_I leaned closer, breathing the scent of her skin before lightly kissing it in the places I knew would make her shiver. As she tried to grab the envelope with the Harvard seal on it, I took her hands in mine until they rested on her flat stomach and she gave an impatient groan but didn't resist. She's like melting butter underneath the fierce heat of the sun, and when I was with her, my senses were heightened to a certain degree._

_I felt the smooth sheer cloth of her dress and the body heat that emanated from the ice princess herself (say it isn't so). I caressed her hand with my thumbs, willing her into submission._

_"I wasn't aware I was." I closed my eyes and smiled against her neck. "However, Ms. Merteuil, are you slightly aware that we are, despite our protests and denials, quite an unlikely story to be told?"_

_"Stories mean nothing to me." I felt her well rounded bottom suddenly shift back and forth against me and I knew that she trying to get me hard. It didn't really take much, and as prickles of arousal swept through me, I wasn't able to think properly. She squeezed my hands, nestling against me in such a manner even I didn't know she was capable of. Her nose brushed against my cheek as her the tip of her tongue breached her lips to lick the side of my jaw before turning it into a kiss._

_"Why, the Kathryn I know prided the stories told about her above anything and anyone else." I commented thoughtfully, pulling back to open her lips with mine. All is forgotten for a few seconds of the parrying of tongues and the meeting of mouths, I doubt I could ever lose interest especially when she kissed me like this._

_"It's not…" she spoke between kisses, her fingers at the back of my neck and her body suddenly becoming warmer during our brief lip lock. "True."_

_"So tell me Kathryn, what could possibly be more important than your perfect reputation?"_

_Finally using her advantage at my current lack of attention, she grabbed the envelope and tore it open unceremoniously, her eyes quickly scanning the letter._

_"You got in as well." Her mouth turned up and I found myself mirroring her smile although I didn't know why she was so happy. Surely our relationship wouldn't be able to survive long enough for a commitment such as that. This wasn't the kind of person we were, and I was still with Annette. _

_It didn't make sense. I didn't understand why Kathryn was acting the way she was; I didn't understand how things would work out after all this. Wasn't this just another affair? Wasn't this temporary because we're both people who firmly believe that nothing should be kept sacred and permanent? Wasn't this just an attempt to exhaust years and hours and months and days of sexual tension between us?_

_"Assuming I'll be going there next year." I replied smoothly, trying to make some sense of things._

_She stopped moving, becoming still for a few seconds before the mask on her face came back. She got that face when she was about to rant._

_"What do you mean you're not going there? You're going there because I'm going there! You're going there because I want you to be there!"_

_I felt my anger rise as I stood up, promptly causing her to lose her balance and almost fall to the floor._

_"You can't treat me like I'm some dog who's going to follow you around, Kathryn. It' doesn't work that way."_

_We were two stones butting against the other, both equally hardheaded and dangerous when propelled with such phenomenal force. Her small hands clenched into tight fists while she shoved me, causing the desk to move and the bottle to fall to the floor, shattering bits and pieces of green glass and pale yellow liquid._

_"Oh, but if Pollyanna asked you, I bet you'd go." She seethed bitterly, glaring at me._

_"Give me one good reason why I should go there." I challenged._

_"Because I said so!"_

_My temper flared further, "What makes you think I'll follow every word you say?"_

_ She gave a little annoyed scream, the red flush from her cheeks no longer debited to arousal but to anger._

_ "You are so irritating!" she yelled, looking like she wanted to throw something at me._

_Then I had no sense of rationality left inside. What happened next came purely from instinct, and suddenly my anger became coupled with words I didn't even know I could say to her, of all people. Kathryn was snarling at me, fully ready for a confrontation. I was glaring right back, wondering why there were days when I could never get enough of her and days when I wanted to wring her neck._

_Either way, a full downpour of anger came out of me and I started talking. "You know, you can be so infuriating. Listen, Kathryn, just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you make an important decision such as this for me. As you may very well recall—"_

_My words were cut off when she suddenly shoved me, causing me to land on the bed. Surprised at this sudden move, I couldn't even remember what it was I said. The look of anger on her face was replaced by something more intent. She stared at me, her eyes melting a hole through my soul and making me remember with shocking realization what I just said._

_Holy son of a bitch._

_"Say it again." She commanded, frowning in concentration to further intensify her scrutiny of me. Her cheekbones brought out her sharp eyes, and it was also then that I noticed the depths of her gaze signified something I hadn't seen fully before. Mere glimpses, perhaps, of the flickers of emotion raging on inside of her, but never to this extent. Suddenly I was aware that this situation was not included in those other instances I've made a mockery of her. No, this was serious._

_Our temporary affair had spiraled out of control, leading into something dangerous. Whatever thoughts I had about continuing my relationship with Annette fell out the window and died a slow and agonizing death while my pulse raced and my heart pounded._

_I turned the tables on her and flipped her over so I was the one on top. I bent my knees and loomed over her, holding her wrists to the sides of her head and leaning closer until our noses were inches from each other._

_"I love you."_

_I prepared myself for a mocking smirk or a quick roll of her eyes and braced myself for the feeling of being pushed away, I expected to hear her slam the door and leave the mess of the champagne and the other unopened letters._

_A miracle of miracles happened:_

_She smiled._

A few meters are left, and she is slowly lessening the space between us. Amanda tries to smile at me, to provide some form of assurance but nothing works. I'm as tense as a bow string and I hate it. Upon closer look, I see the difference a year has made in her; Kathryn's hair is longer, silkier if even possible. In high school it was coiffed to perfection, now it hung looser, splayed around her shoulders casually. Her eyes never leave mine and try as hard as I could; I find that I am unable to turn away from her.

She's gained a healthy glow in her features, and I momentarily wonder if she's turned away from drugs ever since it happened. But I don't want to think about it right now, because when I see her, the hatred builds up and corrodes the affection.

"Sebastian Valmont." She greets me with caution and Amanda clears her throat when I remain silent for more than what was required in a civil conversation. Kathryn doesn't miss the support my stepsister gives me and like a protective lioness glaring at her opponent, she cocks her head and smiles coldly at her.

She remains unmoved by Kathryn's display of cruelty and instead turns to me and leans closer, placing her mouth inches from my ear. Her breath surely reeked of vodka, and had it been any other night, I would have tasted it through her as I explored her mouth with my tongue. Had it been any other night, I would have forgotten Annette, Kathryn and the guilt that lay in the midst.

The vodka flavored air from her words fill my ear as she gives me a nudge.

"I'll be in my room in case you need to talk." She murmurs gently, oddly sounding like she was an actual sister when in fact Amanda and I occasionally fucked like bunnies. Kathryn doesn't speak although I know she's probably itching for a snide remark and opts to watch Amanda fade into the crowd of impeccably dressed individuals who all vied for power and attention.

"You're fucking her, aren't you?" She takes Amanda's place beside me and orders a drink, pausing to glare at the ogling bartender before turning her attention back to me.

"I see you haven't changed. Always straight to the point like before."

It is apparent that she is gauging my mood, but since that horrific night of white powder and opened doors, I've learned to mask my emotions under the greatest of inquiries. Hers.

_"Sebastian, you're here…"_

_My blood ran cold at the sight of blood flowing freely from her wrist and swallowed the bile that was rising to my throat as Annette reached out for me. Her pallor was the color of death, rivaling the whiteness of Kathryn's skin. The red liquid stained my white shirt while she clumsily wrapped an arm around me. I felt her open wound at the back of my neck and it was a miracle I didn't lose my dinner there._

_I don't throw up because I realized that there was another person in the room, lying sleeping and peaceful despite the fact that Annette was near death as it is._

_"I love you so much," she slurred in her dazed state, her upper lip contained vestiges of white powder that was so familiar to me._

"Excuse me, I'm sorry for interrupting but you're just so beautiful and I was about to leave." One of Amanda's prep school friends fell into step between us, openly leering at Kathryn. "I'm Joseph."

"I'm not interested." She replied coldly, but the broad shouldered man was persistent. Apparently nobody had ever turned him down before and he was desperate to salvage his ego, so he merely brushed off her remark and came closer.

"Why, are you already taken?"

I already see her eyes clouding over with impatience at the nerve of this man, but suddenly the feelings that had lain dormant resurface and before I knew it, I had glared at the loser and told him to fuck off.

We both watch while he attempts to soothe his ego by hitting on another girl before she speaks, and this time Kathryn inches closer to me, having established that the coldness I was exuding was easily penetrable.

"I've always loved it when you were so protective." Her breasts brush against my chest and I can already feel the pink nubs harden under the friction. There's a hunger in her eyes that I understand and a hollowness in her expression that mirror mine, it takes a while for me to realize that this was the first time she allowed herself to come so dangerously close against me while we were in public.

"Did you miss me?"

"No." I answer blandly, trying to muster up enough courage to leave.

Her hands find their way into my hair and she runs her fingers through my scalp, licking her lips slightly. Now everything has become still again and I know that I'm failing miserably to try to show the fact that I've moved on. "You know," she whispered, looking desolate for a split second before the usual mischievous expression returned. "When we were together and we attended the usual charity functions, I wanted to grab you and kiss you right in front of everybody. You know, just tell them to fuck off because I couldn't stand it anymore."

_"Do you love me now that I'm exactly like her? What will you do, Sebastian? Who will you save?"_

_My hands were cold and numb. Another check at the pool of blood and the way her pupils were dilated made me see that I would be too late, her breathing has slackened and the blood felt warm against my skin._

_The offending razor that had cut through her beautiful skin rested between the two fingers of a slumped brunette on the floor._

Like a flash of lightning I am hit by the memory that forced me to leave and I keep my emotions in check.

I don't deserve to be fulfilled. Not after what I'd done.

"Murderer." I hiss instead, grabbing her shoulders to keep her away from me because God knows what I would have done if she had stayed where she was.

Something comes over her and the warmth that had suffused her face earlier hardens and turns into frost.

"So we're back to that." She says, cocking an eyebrow.

"Has the guilt finally settled in or is your heart too cold just like the rest of you?"

I grab her arm before she can respond and drag her outside the gardens, where the moon hung low and the guests were scarce. Kathryn doesn't seem fazed by my sudden roughness and goes along willingly; I lead her through the twists and turns of the hedges until I am sure we are alone. The slightly damp grass crunches beneath our feet and we walk under the darkness of the night. During the hurried stride, she wrenches her arm from me and fills my hand with hers, causing me to stop and look at her in surprise.

"Why do you think I'm here?" she asks, and I try not to feel the way I did when a part of her body filled mine.

"It's not going to work." I mutter, taking my hand away. "Leave, Kathryn. Just get out of my life."

She looks stung by my words and the blaze of anger overrides the affection and crystallizes into hatred. Suddenly her beauty contorts into sharp proportions, her glare like a knife glinting under the moonlight ready to cut me open. The air has changed around us, as though adapting to the facades we both wore.

Her body involuntarily shivered and I automatically take off my coat to drape around her shoulders but she slaps my attempt away.

"Look at me when you talk." She hisses, her hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to restrain herself. When I keep my gaze directed on the ground, she grabs my face and jerks it so our eyes meet.

Now, whatever calmness she'd had earlier was totally gone. "Do I remind you of a dead girl, Valmont?" she taunts, not really knowing the truth and what I had to do to protect her. "Do you wish I hadn't taken her in that night? I don't even remember what happened! I don't know how much she took or why she OD'd, but she begged me, it was never my intention to—"

She didn't OD. You killed her.

"Shut the fuck up."

She doesn't know what really happened and I envy the ignorance I created to shield her from the guilt. She doesn't know that the razor had been in her hand while Annette bled to death.

"Why?" she questions in a collected tone, "Was it because you loved Dorothy too much? Don't put this all on me, Valmont. Why do you think she started taking drugs? Oh yes, you're so consumed with anger, well why don't you go dig up her corpse and proclaim your love and devotion to her?"

I've reached my boiling point.

"It's not because I loved her!" I scream, grabbing her shoulders.

"Why then?" she yells back and for a moment I see black and white and Kathryn.

"It's because I fucking love you!"

Before she can ask me to elaborate, I pull her close and kiss her. Her lips are soft and pliant; it was like I had never left. Kathryn, like the year before and the years before that, is still intoxicating. I greedily take in the warmth of her mouth, the taste of her tongue, and the scent of her hair, knowing it wouldn't be long before I started remembering everything that had happened again.

Her hands had pulled the bottom of my dress shirt and she was now caressing the skin underneath, her fingernails raking through my pectorals. She slowly pulls out her hands to unbutton my shirt while I devour her neck greedily. She matches me with every rough movement and every harsh kiss, rolling her neck back and letting me have a chance to play with her as I'd liked. I knead her breasts with one hand, trailing kisses down her jaw and sucking on her collarbone lightly.

Kathryn gives a low moan that sends shivers down my spine. I feel my cock twitch to life and the bulge grows under the furious rubbing of her hand. She gives a sudden cry when my mouth clamps on her breast, sucking on the hard nipple through her sheer dress.

"Don't ever tell me you don't want me anymore." She groans, tugging fistfuls of my hair to bring me closer.

I bring my hand to find the silky wetness between her thighs, the tip of my finger stroking her slick entrance. She's warm and wet and hell and heaven, a murderer and a perfect saint, beautiful and monstrous. She's preparing herself for me, for my body to fit inside of her and bring us to a place we haven't been for the past year. I give an inaudible gasp when her fingers wrap around my throbbing arousal and starts to pump it achingly slow, her mouth slightly opened when I grew impatient and I push the cloth of her panties aside, inserting a finger inside of her.

I am feverish with lust as I feel her walls tighten around my finger, and I could almost smile in nostalgia because I realize that she still feels the same. Her body is a fiery temple of soft walls and pink rose petals; I look up at her to see her biting her lip hard, her eyes were closed and her hand steadily working its magic inside my pants. I stop paying homage to her breasts and capture her in another kiss, swallowing her small scream when one finger became two and I drew patterns on the spot that made her shake.

"Come back with me." She whispers against my mouth and the illusion comes crashing down. "I'm sorry about Annette."

_"Look, Sebastian. I'm bleeding."_

_Seconds passed and Annette was slipping away. I had already called an ambulance but it would take minutes, and Annette didn't have those to spare. _

_Neither did Kathryn. I spared another glance at her, trying my best not to see the glinting silver that lay in her hand. It was caked with coke and blood, her nostrils were pouring out blood and she didn't look like she was breathing. It would take time for me to wake up the servants to help, and I knew that if I tried to carry both girls, it was more likely they both won't survive. I could only take one and the grim realization made me tremble._

_Annette caught my gaze and her blue eyes narrowed hazily, pressing herself against me. _

_"Choose."_

I jerk away from her and run, my breathing coming in huge gasps. I look disheveled, my shirt unbuttoned and the bulge still apparent, but I don't care. I can't stand the way she spoke to me, I can't stand the guilt that I had saved the murderer and not the victim. I hate it when I remember that for Kathryn, the night was a blur. I hate the fact that I took the blade and wiped it clean before I pressed it against Annette's fingers. I hate the fact that she lay twitching and dying while I called the ambulance, and I most certainly hate the fact that I didn't feel regret for having scooped Kathryn up to sprint to my car.

I hate the fact that I couldn't look at her afterwards without reliving that night.

I hate the fact that I left her.

I hate the fact that I love her.

Finally, I stop in front of Amanda's door, my face red and sweaty. There are loud moans coming from inside but I pay no heed. When the door opens, she turns her head sharply from her indignant date and looks at me. Her dark hued blue eyes change from lust-filled to concerned and she dismisses Anthony without another thought while covering her naked body with the blankets to create an illusion that I was only her stepbrother. When we were alone, she stands up and keeps her eyes on me, taking note of my current state.

"Come here." She says gently and I follow, my composure broken as the past I'd tried to forget takes over my life until I have no choice but to confront it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, well. Just like old times, yeah? Sort of. It is taking so long to reread and edit the chapters because I am not used to it anymore and because it is strangely only now that I'm realizing how insane I was for writing chapters that are insanely long. (Sorry about that). So, for a lot of you, this is pretty new. It is also pretty cool that some of you do remember this story.**

**Vivvs - I am sort of back but not really, since this is an old story and is actually finished and I am not going crazy trying to think of twists and turns to keep things interesting. :)) Thank you for the support! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Lita - Thank you!**

**Eashi Chand - Much appreciated! Most of my stories here are very long, thank you for reading (and rereading them). Stay tuned, I will attempt to fast track all the story love for everyone!**

**ForeverReadRed - Thanks for the nice welcome back! Yes it is K/S, it is about 14 chapters long and it doesn't contain any crazy complex characters who hijack the story (**cough**, Conner/Elle/Ian/Mathieu/Belinda****cough** hahahaha). I have been actually thinking about The Involuntary Descent. :)****

****Unfeeling - Yes I remember you too! Maybe, maybe not. I am extremely rusty when it comes to these things. Hahaha****

****laughing elephants - Wish granted! ****

****pot - If by happy ending you mean the one where in the middle of a scene, a bomb explodes killing everyone and ending the story abruptly, then you're about to get your wish granted! Only kidding. It has a nice ending. I think. :))****

****CIFan12 - Thanks! Well it is not a new story it is an old story under an old account that I deleted in a fit of craziness. :))****


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

For what seems like the nth time since my father married Beatrice St. Clair, I marvel at her daughter. Amanda leans back against the luxurious cushioned chair, crossing her long legs in a careless way that was not intended to seduce but all the same, I notice the way her skin rubbed together while she looked at me as she waited for me to begin. I feel a sudden rush of affection (and perhaps a different kind of _love_, although I'm not the one to throw that word around) towards her and I begin to forget Kathryn in a way that only Amanda ever could. She's surprised by this but understands, and instead of pushing me away or wrapping her arms around me to bring me closer, her hands cup my face and she lets me kiss her. Amanda's lips are responsive and her throat gives a slight moan against my tongue, she is gorgeous and broken and warm, but she doesn't feel like home.

She doesn't feel like Kathryn.

I don't want to tell my story now and maybe this woman will help me forget. Her body has grown warmer as she lets my hands wander everywhere. When I start kissing her neck, she sucks on my earlobe and lets me know that it's not going to work.

"You have to stop running, Sebastian." She speaks in a low voice and I am suddenly ashamed of my hesitance. I walk backwards until I land on the chair opposite hers, my mouth red from kissing her.

"You look so sad."

I maintain my silence and her hand reaches out to offer me a glass of wine, a crease forming on her forehead that would have served as worry lines. She shows wisdom well beyond her years and I feel strangely proud.

"I'm not."

Her wide, deep set blue eyes study me while I take a sip. "Stop now or you'll never stop running. Trust me; it does get old after a while."

"Has it been that long since what happened to you?" I question, knowing well enough that she doesn't like talking about that particular part of her past.

"What happened to me?" she repeats softly, looking into the fiery hearth. "You don't know, do you? His name was Stephen. I was fifteen then and involved with a man who thought it was amusing to beat my face to a pulp. I met Stephen and he made me see that things could be different. One night, I was going to leave my boyfriend and somehow he found out about Stephen. He hit me until I was unconscious and then went after him. Stephen's body was found the next day in a lake. His limbs had been cut off."

I swallow thickly; taking in the grisly story of Amanda's shadowed past. Now I understood why she sought the escape as much as I did.

"I'm sorry." I answered, looking at her.

"Well, I've shared my horror story, now it's only fitting that I know yours."

The wine tastes bitter and I am reminded of blood as the crimson liquid filled my mouth. The bitterness doesn't leave although the wine has been forgotten. Finally, under the scrutiny of my raven haired stepsister's gaze, I let the air enter my lungs (taking in a deep breath that seemed to last forever) and was about to begin when the loud opening of the door causes our heads to turn.

That idiot who had hit on Kathryn earlier stumbles inside, his beefy muscular arms and large frame wrapped around a female who was apparently stupid enough to fall for his lame ass lines.

"Baby, you're so fine." the moron murmurs, trying in vain to sound husky and instead sounding like a jackass.

"Excuse me!" Amanda's crisp voice radiates with politeness and ice while glaring at him pointedly. "Do you mind? My stepbrother and I are having a private conversation."

Joseph shifts his weight to leer at Amanda and I catch my breath when I see Kathryn. Her large dark green eyes are more hazy than sexually stimulated. The hickey I had left earlier was still visible on her neck and she had a serene smile on her beautiful face that could only mean one thing.

She gives me an evil look that could rival Satan's, "I'm well aware of how long my private conversations with Sebastian lasted, so perhaps we can find a more suitable place, Joseph. This will surely take hours if memory serves me correct and he still has the stamina."

There is a small spot of white on her left nostril. For the second time in the night, I let the rage grab control of my body. Doesn't she know that the sight of her drugged out only reminded me of that fucking night? Doesn't she know that because of the white powder on her face I now suddenly have flashbacks of Annette watching me while I let her slump to the floor? Doesn't she fucking know that it fucks me up more when I see her like this? She is intolerable!

I wrench the Neanderthal's death grip off her and Kathryn only chuckles headily at me while the larger man growled like an animal deprived of food.

"Hey!" Joseph whines, trying to grab her arm but I stand between them and clench my fists, giving him the look of pure fury I felt at the moment. My blue eyes turn steely and my jaw tightens, I feel like I am about to jump and murder him with my bare hands if he chooses to pick a fight. I feel Kathryn's hand on my shoulder and somehow it relinquishes some of the anger.

"You run like a little pansy when we almost fuck but you don't want somebody else to have a taste?" her voice is slurred, the dress slightly tugged and exposing the top of her supple milky breasts. Her bra is torn and I am fuming at the thought that this caveman's large hands had touched her.

Joseph licks his lips, looking a like a trashy porn star. "Come on, Kat. What do you say we take the party back to my place? I have some more left there."

"YOU GAVE HER THE DRUGS?" I yell and suddenly, Joseph is grasping futilely at my arms while he gasped and choked for breath. He is pinned against the wall and I didn't give two fucks about whether or not he's broken something.

Amanda grips my arms and pushes me away, her face tight and drawn. She looks older than seventeen at that instant, and her gaze probes into mine. I release Joseph hesitantly.

Kathryn, despite her inebriated and drugged out state, doesn't miss this silent exchange. Her upper lip curls up in disgust and she rolls her eyes, making a move to follow a stunned and coughing Joseph out with Amanda when I grab her.

"What did you take?" I know for a fact that her internal organs had greatly weakened since the incident and I worried that she might have to be rushed to the hospital or something.

Her gorgeously light pink painted mouth widens into a lazy smile, Amanda gives us a look before closing the door and the strangest of smirks crosses her pale face. Once again, the drunken brunette glowers at her and before I could come up with a snide comment, her eyes roll backward and body slumps to the floor like a broken rag doll.

I will kill that man for this.

I kneel and open her eyelids forcefully, peering carefully. Sweat begins to bead down my temple even though it isn't even hot, her pulse is steady and I am grateful for the many instances in the past wherein I'd find her passed out because the doctor I had called taught me how to know if she needed medical attention or if she just needed to rest. She shifts her legs and her dress rides up, showing me that glorious black laced clad mound of hers. The sight and the memories it invokes makes me blink. I wonder if she realizes that even though she's passed out and stoned, she still manages to entice me. My fingers brush across her thigh when I try to pull her dress back down to avoid any further distractions and the contact causes her to rouse.

"Why do you keep molesting me in my sleep? She murmured, only half aware of what she was saying. "Remember that night at the Hamptons house? It was during the storm and you were pissing me off and…" her words are coming out in fast jumbles and incoherent slurs.

Placing my arm underneath her back and the other to support her neck, I lift her up and bring her to my room.

"I remember." I answer quietly and she covers her eyes under the bright lights of the hallway. I remembered well.

"What about homecoming?"

_"What took you so long? I've been waiting for ten minutes!" I complained, pacing the abandoned gardens._

_The tiara on her gorgeous head sparkled and she seemed to take her sweet time getting to me. Her hips swayed in a natural manner that appeared seductive, the slow movement of her steps only intensifying my craving for her. She had won homecoming queen (surprise fucking surprise) and had had to mingle and dance with her pretty boy date (who was annoyingly the homecoming king). I had of course gone with Annette and regretted it the moment I saw how stunning Kathryn looked tonight._

_"Well, I am the queen after all." She smirked, biting her lip when our bodies are practically so close. I can smell her scent and feel her petite frame fit against mine even though I haven't touched her yet. "It would only be fitting that I made you wait."_

_The crown felt cold against my fingertips and my touch travels down her temple and cheek, drinking in her glowing smile and the slightest rouge of her cheeks. "Queen…" I murmured, leaning closer to brush my lips against hers but not kissing her. "Perhaps I just might punish you for keeping me waiting."_

_"Punish away." She whispered, grinning wickedly._

"Of course." I look at her just as the door to my room is opened and at that moment, she opens her eyes and we stare at each other in the doorway.

"I miss you, Sebastian." She says, the alcohol just starting to manifest at its strongest point. Kathryn lets out a laugh that sounds fake and self deprecating, "I don't have anybody to play with anymore."

I smirk, amused at how innocent this devil-woman in my arms sounded like when in fact she was capable of so much more.

_"Choose."_

_"Don't make me do this." I pleaded but right away Annette knew the answer._

"What are you, eight?"

"Not since eeeeleven years ago!" she belts out throatily and instead of being appalled by her singsong voice, I forget that night and focus on her. After I deposit her on the bed, I automatically begin unzipping her dress and she smiles and opens her legs wider, misinterpreting my actions.

Not that I don't want to.

"Take it easy, you nympho." I chuckle and let the dress slide on the sofa. When I see her bare body clad only in the sexiest of lingerie, I almost wish I had covered her up instead because now the twitch in my cock has turned into a throbbing ache.

"But I want to fuck!" she insists, seeming to forget our argument earlier. She tries to pull me closer but I try and manage to resist, if she feels my dick poking her thigh she'll know the power she has over me and I can't let that happen. Instead, I sit closer by her on the soft bed while her hand reaches out to caress my cheek.

"So handsome." She smiles, "Don't you find me beautiful anymore, dear stepbrother?"

"Even without that fucking tiara your beauty remains unparalleled." I cover her hand in mine and I kiss her forehead.

"Glad to know." She murmurs and takes my hand to drape around her waist so I have no choice but to lie down beside her. "Are you sure you don't want to fuck tonight?"

I chuckle at her little-girl voice and it is that tone that makes me want to believe in what she's told me. If she doesn't remember anything, then maybe it was just an accident. Kathryn is different when she's drunk, she acts out of character and yet at the same time, she's exactly like herself. She's more affectionate and she sounds so young.

"Not tonight." I try to wrench my hand from her and she frowns at the lack of contact. Pulling up the covers, I cover her as best I could and she gives a pleased hum.

Her eyes narrow and she gives a large yawn, "You know you're a bastard for leaving me." She comments sleepily while I venture to the bathroom to get changed. It takes me minutes to realize that she tells the truth when she's drunk.

Fuck. So did she remember what happened? Will she be able to tell me? Will I even be able to ask?

I open the door to climb under the covers with her and she spoons her body to fit against mine. Her breath reeks of tequila and brandy and generally just alcohol, the strands of her hair soft against my skin.

"Not tonight." I repeat for some unknown reason and Kathryn leans up to kiss me. As her mouth touches mine I feel like some of her intoxication has been passed on through the mere joining of our lips.

Everything is still and fast and dangerous and now I don't even want to ask her about what happened.

When I respond with equal fervor, I feel her smile against my mouth and I don't even care if I'm letting her win. I need this as much as she does. I need her. I need her more than I need the truth.

The phrase 'Not tonight' takes a new meaning.

I slip my tongue into her eager mouth and she straddles me, her fingers twisting the curls of my hair. I feel her wetness on my groin, the thin clothing hindering us already damp. I feel her pulsate on top of me, her sex hot and enticing and I throw everything I was thinking out the window.

"Hate me," she says, breaking away from my mouth with a small sound of suction. "But not tonight. Not tonight, Sebastian."

"Kathryn." I groan while she attacks my neck with the ferocity of anger, frustration and lust.

"Again." The friction between our wanting organs has increased our hunger for each other. Her hips move back and forth while she gives a slight purr, clamping down hard on her lip. I free her from the constriction of her bra and flip her over; placing little licks and nips along her chest. I suck harder on the hollow of her collarbone, marking her as mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. My guilty secret. My demon. My past. Mine.

"Say my name again; I've missed hearing it from you."

I stimulate her clit, pinching the sensitive bunch of nerves and she gives a long moan that's filled with untold dirty words and sexual innuendos. Her panties are drenched and she's pulled me closer, telling me all the things she wanted me to do to her.

"Kathryn, Kathryn, Kathryn." I growl when she slips the garment to toss on the floor; she is laid bare and beautiful under me. I knew right then that I had never wanted anyone as much as I wanted her. We kiss once more and I am left reeling, her entire body is flushed and slightly sweaty but she's perfect. While I suckle on her breasts, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses herself against me like we had already been joined. Her small chin is placed on top of my head and for a moment she relishes the way her name rolled off my tongue the way I relished her tight hold on me.

My hand is filled with her fluids when she turns away and in typical Kathryn fashion, she's on top again.

"Dominating vixen." I murmur and her lips curve into a smile. She pulls my warm, drenched fingers from her and continues to torture me by rubbing across my pleading arousal, looking intently when my mouth dropped open and I unintentionally let out a weak whimper.

"You weaken me." I whisper without intending to say it since it had so many meanings.

Her body stops moving and she leans forward to place her forehead on my chin like she's thinking of something to say in return but can't figure out what. I run my free hand across the curve of her spine, admiring her smooth skinned backside as though it was the finest of silk. I feel her breathing heavily. I feel everything about her, the hardness of her nipples, the warmth and tempting wetness of her want, and the fast beating of her heart.

"You do the same to me, Sebastian." I feel her lips move against my chest and the weariness overtakes her alcohol and drugged body and she slumps on top of me.

And just like that, she's knocked out cold. My arms tighten around her and strangely enough I don't feel disappointed that she's fallen asleep. I gently nudge her and move her by my side, where her face cuddles against my neck and she gives it the smallest of kisses before resuming her slumber.

I stare at Kathryn for minutes and then it spans into an hour. I've memorized her every breath, the slope of her aristocratic nose, the tinge of her dark brown hair when darkness fell and we only had the moonlight as our source. I know when she's dreaming because her eyebrows slightly furrow and when she's having a nightmare because her mouth twitches unpleasantly, I know how she feels when she's pressed against me after the passion has subsided, how erratic her heart would beat and just how warm her skin can be when I touch her the way she wants me to.

But despite this knowledge Kathryn is still a mystery, and I'm not sure if I even want to know the truth.

Did you do it, Kathryn? Did you kill Annette?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello to everyone! Thank you for reading! (I apologize if I am unable to say hello to each of you who reviewed, I am very tired and my eyes hurt from rereading and editing this. I really hadn't realized how much I wrote back then! It's so crazy.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

_"Choose."_

_I stared at her as the life leaked out from her wound, wondering how she possibly could do something like this. This was beyond evil and beyond torture, the angelic features of Annette's face were twisted in silent pain and she held on to me desperately._

_"Please don't make me do this."_

_Time was running out._

_"I told her it didn't hurt, but I lied." She spoke in a raspy voice that would probably haunt me for the years to come. "I lied, Sebastian. I didn't want her to know how much it affected me. I wanted to be as strong as her, because that's what you love about her right?"_

_"What?" my entire body has gone cold._

_"I told her about your journal. What it…" she winced and I automatically held her up to keep her from crashing to the wooden floor. "What it said… She was so angry."_

_"Did she do this to you?"_

_She looked up at me, kissing my mouth before I could fathom the idea that she was about to. As her blood smeared across my cheek her pale lips moved but I refused to hear her reply._

_"You both did… So choose, Sebastian." Her mouth turned down into another wince and the tears fell down her unblinking eyes, "Choose me. Love me. You can make it up to me."_

_I close my eyes and I gently place her on the floor, "I'm sorry, Annette."_

_The scene changed and suddenly I was at a funeral. Kathryn was absent and the only people present were her father and me. Dean Hargrove glared at me with utmost contempt as Annette's casket was being lowered. Suddenly, the wooden cover cracked open and a hand popped out, the wound still fresh and bloody as it had been that night._

_"Murderer! I loved you!" she screeched and Dean Hargrove's grief turned into madness. The combined hateful glares he had given me all turned into one ugly look full of pain and fury and suddenly I saw the devil in him. He snarled, wrapping his hands around my neck and pushing his thumbs down my throat._

_I felt the cool grass hit my back as the air slowly escaped me._

Morning presents quite a different viewpoint for me. As usual, my eyes shoot open and I am familiarized with the room for a couple of seconds, blinking slowly while the sweat begins to drip down my forehead. I turn my head to find the other side empty, the sheets are cold and I instinctively wonder if it had all been a delusion of mine. It was perhaps somewhere between a dream and a nightmare, because with Kathryn it's usually a combination of both.

Friedrich Nietzsche said that there was always some madness in love, but there was also always some reason in madness. What then, does that imply? That I've gone mad for loving her? That maybe the reason why I know so much about her and at the same time be afraid to know even more is because I've become contradictory to myself? I always find that there are two sides when it came to Kathryn. As complex as our relationship might be, it always goes down to two aspects. Love and hate. Lust, fury and passion all lie in that fine line and I experience all of these emotions when I am with her.

You might be wondering though, because if you actually knew me you'd think that I was too fucked up to love anybody else but myself. That maybe bedding different women in my lifetime has rendered me incapable of feeling any emotion, maybe with each regretful cry of my name and each screams and shouts of hurt and rejected women I have come to use and discard like used tissue, I left a piece of my own conscience until I had none left. Maybe I did. But now it's back, and now I realize that I had been happier when I didn't have it.

I do admit that I'm fucked up. I won't disagree with you; in fact, I'll even applaud you for having the guts to voice out what many people have thought of over the years of my arrogant, self serving existence. You can say it, yell it even. 'Sebastian Valmont can't love anybody else. He's too fucked up, his brain only functions to please his body and his vices. Sex, drugs and alcohol: Those are what he needs to function, and to function in a pleasure filled world is his only purpose in life.'

But there's something you got wrong somewhere along the line.

The problem with me (and I do admit this) isn't the fact that I'm too fucked up to love anybody else. It's the fact that I'm too fucked up to love, really love anybody else but her.

The door opens just as I had gone from the bathroom, running a hand through my damp hair. I don't have to turn around to know who it is, Amanda usually went ahead and grabbed me (when she was feeling horny), and since Kathryn and I haven't quite gone to that comfort zone yet, I can tell it's her. Her hesitance is like a telltale sign, a tentative movement masked by that damn near perfect face as she looked me over.

Ah, speak of the devil.

(Or possibly one of his countless disciples.)

She's dressed differently today, her skin looks tanned and glowing, there were no traces of a hangover from her episode last night. She's like one of those people who might feel like shit but still manage to look so fucking gorgeous.

"How are you?" I grab a pair of boxers and slide them on under the towel, her mouth turns up at the sight of my bare buttocks but she doesn't comment on it.

"Fine." She answers, looking at me. "You know, I could have handled it last night. You didn't have to butt in like that, it was quite embarrassing. You made me look like I'm not capable of taking care of myself."

I'm pretty sure that as a reflex of her pseudo 'I'm-a-powerful-bitch' chastising, my blue eyes roll and I am quick to retort.

"Oh, sure, get yourself killed. Waste the guilt I had been feeling over the past year, you never did care anyway. As long as you were breathing, you forgot everything else. Once a selfish bitch, always a selfish bitch."

Another round of confrontations has begun. I want to come over to her, to be nearer so she could feel the intense glare I was currently giving her. But from past experience I knew that getting near her would also mean having her power over me grow stronger as the distance between us diminished. I simply couldn't let that happen again.

Her brow contorts into a frown, "What are you talking about?"

Idiot. She doesn't know I had to choose.

Why, you may ask, did I keep it from her? I didn't want her to feel what I felt. I didn't want the knowledge that Annette's death had the potential to be a murder or a suicide because I didn't want her to feel guilty. I was fully all for keeping her ignorant of the night's proceedings, especially when she'd informed me that after Annette had caught her snorting that precious nose candy of hers and pleaded and blackmailed her, threatening to tell on Kathryn to her father, to let her have some, she was out of it and didn't remember anything at all.

Nothing at all. With that lie I perpetuated, I knew that as evil as she claimed to be, even this was too far from her. Even Kathryn won't be able to take the guilt away and I didn't want her to feel it. Guilt is pain.

She's had enough of that.

God, she's right. I've turned into a fucking chump.

I didn't want her to remember because however tormented I was over that night, I didn't want to hear her voice out my worst fears. That yes, she was high and when Annette had informed her of the hateful things written about her in my journal, she had a fit and tried to shut my ex girlfriend up by slicing across her skin until she bled to death.

"Nothing." I mutter, turning away. My eyes darken the slightest shade and I keep myself busy. "Get out, Kathryn."

"No." she answers coldly, "Let's finish this right now. I deserve an explanation, Sebastian."

"I wasn't aware there was anything to finish. How could you finish something when nothing even started?"

I feel a sharp shove and in surprise, I stumble, righting myself on the wobbling side table that swayed precariously. Another dose of pain is received when she begins attacking me with her punches, scratches and slaps.

"You bastard!"

"That again? Surely you've thought of new ways to express your affections for me, Kat."

"Don't you ever call me that!"

"Why not? You called me a bastard."

"You are a bastard!" she screamed, her face turning red.

"Glad we got that established." I reply unflinchingly. I can almost feel her hot, panting breath hit my skin, her silky brown hair brush against my bare chest and her eyes search my thoughts for the answers. I am tempted to ask her, to tell her what really happened in hopes that maybe she'll remember something and she can finally put a rest on my nagging thoughts.

But I don't want to hear her answer. I don't want to hear what the truth might be. I would rather be haunted by all these visions of Kathryn possibly being a murderer than actually knowing it.

"Now leave!" My mouth turns into a sneer and I am rewarded by the sudden angry darkening of her tumultuous green eyes.

"You can't dismiss me like I'm one of your fucking conquests." She hisses dangerously, backing me against the wall. For a woman of her petite size, her demanding appearance made up for her range.

I need to get out of there. I need to leave before I start seeing blue eyes instead of green when Kathryn looks at me, I need to stop talking to her before I remember that night over and over again until I drown myself in alcohol and sin to forget.

"Oh, but you were one of my fucking conquests." My laughter sounds hollow and bitter to my ears.

You're not. You're really not, Kathryn. Stay away from me. I miss you everyday. I miss holding you, I miss kissing that spot on your neck that always made you whimper, I miss making love to you alternating between slow and furious, like everything else was falling apart and we were the only constant existence in this world.

Kathryn recoils at my laughter, looking stunned and hurt. I want to murder Annette Hargrove from my thoughts so she would disappear. Her furious face falls for a moment and her features tighten.

But I did murder her, didn't I? I left her to die. I finished what Kathryn maybe started. Just like the bet.

"You don't mean that." She whispers, the mask of ice back but her tone still and almost hurt.

But I've gone too far to stop now. I need to stop looking at her… I need to stop because she's the catalyst of memories from a past I wanted to flee from. I don't mean it. But I have to say it. I have to continue. Years and years of charming women with false acts and promises have helped me maintain my cruel demeanor. I tilt my neck to bring my mouth closer to hers, like I was going to kiss her, only I did the unthinkable.

I mock her.

"But you are." I murmur, licking her lower lip. "You were the greatest conquest, Kathryn. You were my best accomplishment among all of them, even Annette. When we made that bet I told you that she would be my greatest victory but I was wrong. You are. When I finally fucked you that night, I loved making you scream. I loved taking down the Ice Bitch a notch down or two. Especially when I made you beg."

No, fuck, don't listen to me, Kathryn.

"It was fun for a while, baby. Think about it, I got some from the virgin and then I'd get some from you. Twice the fun, wouldn't you say?"

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please leave I can't stand this.

I caress her cheek with one finger, forcing myself to treat her like every other slut I encountered. I bite the insides of my cheeks as part of the habit, "Of course, there's no denying the fact that you were so much better in the sack than Annette was. That's why I kept you around. You think I'm your toy? That I'm just someone you screwed around with? Baby, you couldn't be more wrong. You're my toy. You're my best fuck toy, Kat. It amused me to make you swallow your words. You didn't believe in love and yet there you were, making plans for our future."

I love you, Kathryn.

My head suddenly snaps to the side as my cheek stung from the impacted fury of her slap.

"You want to know why I left? Why, after Annette's death, we just stopped talking?"

"I hate you." She grits her teeth, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. I know there's probably a red handprint on my left cheek right now, but I deserve it. Grabbing her shoulders roughly, I bang her against the wall, reversing our positions. Kathryn doesn't wince when the hardness hit her bony back, fully intending on hating me at the moment.

"I got tired of you." I sneer in her ear, biting on the earlobe teasingly. "All this bullshit about going to Harvard together, get it through your thick, slutty head, Kat. I just wanted you because you did things to me with that hot little mouth of yours no other girl could. I suppose the final straw came when you pushed drove Annette over the edge. You made her like you, you corrupted her. That's a new low even for you. That's when I realized that you were too fucked up to be kept. I couldn't have that especially with all the women I have yet to befriend, could I? So I fucked you one last time and I was gone."

Kathryn, when angered, can be comparable to a hurricane. It strikes with merciless wrath and it's quite futile to struggle against because of the impossibly strong winds and endless ire about the body of the pillager.

Now that I've said my lies, she places her hands on both sides of my jaw, her sharp fingernails digging into my skin that it almost bleeds. I try to twist from her vulture like grip but find that the more I twist my head, the deeper the half moon markings from her manicured nails get. Blue eyes meet green ones while her darkened stormy gaze read me, breaking through the walls of my half truths.

For a few minutes the room is silent except for our shallow breathing, and then she suddenly smiles evilly.

"Liar, liar." She scoffs, seemingly unperturbed by the harsh words I had just uttered even though I know that she must have been hurt.

"Let me go."

"You want to know how I know you're lying, Sebastian?"

"It wasn't a lie."

"No," she agrees, "We weren't a lie."

"You're on drugs again, aren't you? It would certainly explain the delusions."

"I am not. With the exception of last night, I've been clean. I fully intend to keep it that way."

"No," I sneer, hoping that the pained look on my face at having to do this to her was contorted and fucked up enough to be perceived as disgust. "You're filthy. Even without the shit you snort."

She ignores this dig, preferring to listen to the truth that we both know was kept hidden in the unnatural loud beating of my nervous heart.

Her hold loosens on me and she makes her way to my neck, trailing hot kisses until I had to bite the insides of my mouth to keep from groaning. The four marks on both side of my jaw are prominent and they hurt, but as her fingers gently run over it, my skin feels like it's on its way to healing again. She nuzzles her brown head against me and my boxers suddenly wrinkle because I've made fists with my hands, crumpling the cloth.

"When you lie, your voice breaks." She says softly, "There's a barely noticeable waver in your gaze and you bite the insides of your cheeks."

"Don't do this to me." I feel myself breaking. I want to take her and ravish her the way I had in the past, but I can't. If I continue this with her, I have to tell her the truth. I can't live the lie she lives, but I can't make her live with the guilt either. I entertain the thought of losing myself in her tonight, but it doesn't seem right. How long will it take until Annette Hargrove's demise haunts my thoughts again? I can't do this to her, I can't be that fucked up shell of a man when I was with Kathryn.

Sebastian Valmont, the fucking martyr.

"If a different man had just told me what you did, I would have fucked him up so badly he'll wish he was never conceived." Her hands caress my stomach and I involuntarily take a sharp breath, "But you should know that however different you might be, you still deserve this."

Her knee jerks up to my groin and an unbelievable amount of pain shoots up it almost makes my brain explode. I give a loud cry and she automatically steps back to avoid the crashing of my pained form on the floor. My teeth are gritted and I scream every profanity I could think of while she only watches me with complete seriousness.

"Bitch!"

"You would do well than to treat me like I'm one of your whores."

"You are one of my whores!" I scream out of spite, my eyes tearing up while my cock throbbed painfully. I bend, trying to wait until the pain goes away but it doesn't seem to help. Fucking hell, Kathryn's such a power tripping bitch. "What makes you so damn different?"

She kneels before me and strokes my forehead, looking deep into my teary (from the pain) eyes. "Because nobody else matches up to you." she began, brushing my blond hair back almost affectionately. "Nobody else knows that when you get kissed right here," her mouth brushes against a spot on my neck near my earlobe and I close my eyes, the tingling sensation of her lips against my skin overcoming the now subsiding pain of my groin.

"You shiver."

"Damn you." I mutter, sitting up and pissed off at myself for not showing some form of resistance when her kisses eventually lead to my mouth.

"Nobody knows that your eyes turn a darker shade of blue when you're turned on," she stops to look at me and I couldn't think of anything to say. "Or that when I suck on your bottom lip, you get ten times more aroused. When you're sad your mouth turns downwards and your scowl is often less pronounced. When you're happy you try not to smile but you can't help it so you smirk, only when you do smirk there are two lines at the corners of your mouth that indicates a hint of a grin. People think you're a master of deceit, Sebastian. But you can't deceive me. I know that when you tell the truth, there's a certain tone of conviction in your voice and that day-"

_"You know, you can be so fucking infuriating. Listen, Kathryn, just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you make an important decision such as this for me. As you may very well recall—"_

"You meant it." She tells me, running her thumb on the line on my lower lip. "I know that you did."

I bring my mouth to hers so hard that my teeth almost get chipped in the process, a low growl escaping my throat to cover the thudding of my heart. She knew all those things about me?

The kiss didn't start as gentle and tentative as most kisses started, no, this one was full of anger and hate, she hated me for the things I've said and I hated her for the things she didn't say. I squeeze her hips and lift her so she sat on my lap, my tongue exploring the wet cavern of her sweet mouth.

"I'm sorry…" she murmurs after a long moan came from her, "I'm sorry about her."

"Don't say her name." I wrap my arms around her while she straddles me, "Not now."

"I didn't… ah…" my fingers find her hardened peak and I twist it gently, "I didn't know she would… oh… bleed… that… hard…"

What?

We both freeze as the lie is destroyed before our very eyes. Kathryn's eyes widen and I see darkness and tear filled blue eyes again. My heart hardens at the implications of her words and I push her away from me.

"What did you say?" I grind my teeth, standing up. "You know what happened! You killed her!"

"She was- She told me about what you said about me, she quoted your journal and I was so angry at you. That new drug I had been trying clouded my rationality and I remember…" she pauses hesitantly, "I remember wanting to kill her. She was laughing at me, the drug had gotten into her head as well. She kept saying that I manipulated you into leaving her. I wasn't thinking, Sebastian."

I could only gape at her, horrified.

"I remember blade against my fingers and I grabbed her wrist. I pressed it against her skin, wanting to scare her, to shut her up. I remember blood… But it was only a trickle, I swear! Everything was so blurry that night, I was so furious at her and at you… I wouldn't have killed her. You know that."

The volcano had just burst and the lava spewing from it is so scalding you'll be scarred for life.

"You made me believe that you didn't remember what had happened! All this time, you were just too fucking selfish to tell me! Do you have any idea how many months I've suffered because of it? GOD DAMMIT, KATHRYN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU DID TO ME? ANNETTE MADE ME CHOOSE! YOU HAD OD'D AND SHE WAS BLEEDING TO DEATH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IT FELT TO BE AT HER FUNERAL AND HAVE HER FATHER LOOK AT ME LIKE I WAS THE FUCKING DEVIL?"

"I don't remember slitting her wrist! She could have just as easily ended her miserable, pathetic life—"

I don't know why I did what I did next, was it the accumulated guilt and self deprecation that had caused my hand to strike her across her lovely cheek? There was a surprised cry from her as she fell backwards, and I felt no remorse for the way her small body crumpled under the strength of my hand.

"IT'S POSSIBLE! IT'S NOT AN UNLIKELY STORY THAT SHE WOULD OFF HERSELF AND PUT IT ON ME! THAT'S JUST THE KIND OF BEHAVIOR I WOULD EXPECT FROM A VIRGINAL BITCH WHO SPREADS HER LEGS AFTER KNOWING YOU FOR WHAT? A WEEK?" She grabs the closest thing, my journal, and opens it.

Kathryn wants to hurt me now and she knows me too well. As she grabs the letter opener, her tight grip on the sharp silver object tightens even more when she opens my journal and slices through the paper as hard as she could. She cuts through the leather and moments later, there are bits and pieces of scrawl filled paper on the floor. My recollections turn into confetti and I don't know which one went where, I stand there frozen as my life, my conquests and everything that had happened turned into a fucking jigsaw puzzle. When she finishes, her hand bled from the tight holding and she throws the notebook on the other side of the room, watching as more papers flew from the ruined journal.

"AND IF I DID KILL HER, I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO DID! YOU STARTED IT! YOU PUSHED HER OVER THE EDGE! NOT ONLY THAT, YOU HAD A CHOICE AS TO WHETHER OR NOT TO SAVE HER! YOU CHOSE ME! IT WAS YOUR DECISION, NOT MINE! IF I'M A MURDERER, THEN SO ARE YOU!"

"GET OUT!" I holler, shoving her so hard that she loses her balance and crashes into a chair. She responds my chucking a vase at me, hitting me squarely on the head so hard that it breaks at the impact and I see nothing but stars for a while. Her mouth is bleeding and there's a cut on her cheek but I ignore it. As she stands up, she casts one last withering look at me. Only it spoke volumes. It also spoke of disappointment and pain, of rage and rejection and as much as I wanted to make it go away, I can't.

"I wish I had never known you."

"The feeling's mutual, Kathryn."

The door slams and I feel drained of my anger. I sink down and place my head in my hands, trying to keep the image of Kathryn killing Annette because it was the only way for me to stop myself from going after her. My room is a mess, but somehow it seems more fitting that the outside world matched the dizzying emotions that boiled inside of me. I long for the soothing spell of alcohol to be cast upon me when the door opens and another angry woman stomps inside.

"Amanda, I'm really not in the—"

She smacks my head and I yell in surprise.

I groan, rubbing the back of my head and looking up to meet a pair of intense, dark sea blue eyes.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You do not hit a woman!" she yells in my ear and I cringe at the anger in her voice. "No matter how much of a bitch Kathryn may have been, you do not hit her!"

"FUCK OFF!" I growl, staring hatefully at her. "Get a life, you bitter bitch. Just because your boyfriend's lying six feet under without his limbs doesn't mean I'm going to pity you and it certainly doesn't give you a right to butt in. It's really none of your concern right now; I can do anything I fucking want. What's it to you anyway? Just go back to your room and leave me alone. Go fantasize about your dead boyfriend, you're a fun fuck but I'm not in the fucking mood right now."

Her pale mouth drops open at my remark and I kick myself for it. Her entire gorgeous face falls but I'm too angered by Kathryn to appease her or rectify my callous remark.

"I'll talk to you later, Manda." I reply, crossing the room to the bar.

-0-0-0-

It turns out that I don't talk to Amanda for the rest of that day. For the next two weeks, I remain drunk as a fucked up asshole, drifting in and out of sobriety only when I bed a woman or two to distract myself. My room still had its chaotic mess when Kathryn had left because it served as a reminder of the fact that I had hit her. My ruined journal still lay where it landed, the vase still shattered on the floor and there was even dry crusted blood on the chair where she slammed her head into.

Oh, God. I had hurt Kathryn.

Then I screamed at Amanda.

Yes, it's official. Aside from being a fucking martyr, I am now an asshole.

But the truth... What was it? Which one was it?

Since then, I had moved into one of the other rooms. That room only reminded me of Kathryn now. It was tainted with the memory of holding her during that night of her inebriation and our almost coupling.

My lips are dry and the night is cruel, the warm body on the bed is voluptuous and tanned. It's another reminder of the fact that I feel emptied and hollow on the inside; I am tempted to ask this faceless beauty to leave. It's been a while since I spoke to Amanda, she had treated me with the coldest of shoulders after what I'd said and I don't blame her. I feel raw and angry, this story bubbles inside of me like a ticking time bomb waiting to blow me up into millions of pieces.

Suddenly I know. I have to tell what had happened. I have to get it out.

My stepsister sits in front of her vanity table, looking blankly into the mirror as she runs a brush through her soft hair. As I enter her room, our eyes meet but she says nothing.

"I'm fucked up." I say as a way of explaining, shoving my hands into the worn out pants I had put on after leaving the woman on my bed.

Amanda watches me closely through the mirror, her gaze blank and impassive. For once I can't read her, but I hoped that she wouldn't turn me away. She needed to hear my side of the story; she needed to hear what had happened as much I need to let somebody know.

"That remains to be seen." She answers softly.

"On what?"

"Your story."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello and thank you to everyone out there! Sorry it is taking so long to reupload! Life has been crazy busy but I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

The following day I am resting on Amanda's bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while she breathes softly beside me. After finishing my story for what seemed like hours, her luminous blue eyes had somehow held a sense of understanding in them and she allowed me to stay on her bed for the night. No, we didn't have sex but I didn't hold her either. I'm not the kind of guy who does that, as you may very well know, and the last time I did that was with, well, never mind.

After laying there in silence, she had kissed me on the cheek before turning her back on me. I didn't mind. Something about her presence soothes me. Her back is turned and it is a map of velvety skin, pale in its own glory, yet I find all sorts of things wrong with it. Have I become so fully jaded that even the smallest of details bother me?

My hand rests on my stomach and I draw invisible lines on the musculature, remembering how and where Kathryn fit while she was on top of me. I trace the outline of where her arm would rest, the contours none too easy to forget. You must deem me pathetic, but it helps. It helps me recall certain memories that don't involve blood and Annette.

_"Sebastian?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_Kathryn hesitated, her neck turning slightly when she looked up at me. There was a questioning look in her sleepy green eyes as her eyelids slowly closed and opened to fight the weariness. I was tracing random patterns on her stomach, enjoying the way she winced and squirmed when I traced on the places that made her laugh._

_I rubbed my thumb against her skin idly, not even realizing how amazing it was that we felt so comfortable in the presence of the other._

_"Talk to me, princess." I remarked, the corner of my mouth turning up when she cuddled closer to me._

_"You're breaking up with her today, aren't you?"_

_"Mhmm. She's coming here." I yawned, placing a possessive arm around her. "Why?"_

_"It's just… Do you think it's wise? She looks unhinged lately. I think she knows about us."_

_"Unhinged?"_

_She snickered, lightly punching me. "Yes. Unhinged. You didn't see the way she looked at me when I stole you away from your stupid date. You have an excellent taste in women, Sebastian."_

_I looked at her, smiling softly. "So it would seem, Kathryn."_

_She didn't answer but her doubt spoke volumes in itself. "It's not just about Annette. I think we're getting too ahead of ourselves, that's all."_

_"What do you mean? We talked about this, remember? We said after we make sure the old bastard of a father Annette had wouldn't be able to besmirch my credentials should the news of me taking his precious daughter's virginity reach his ears, I'm dumping the ball and chain. I got into Harvard now; Dean Hargrove won't be able to do anything to detain me from graduating or from getting into a good college."_

_"Ball and chain? So is that how you'll refer to me as well?" she asked in mock haughtiness._

_"No… I see you as another torture device… Preferably made of leather and those metal spikes kinky people use." I began kissing her neck but instead of groaning an encouragement like she usually did, I found no response whatsoever._

_When she didn't reply my feeling of apprehension grew and I pulled away from her, the wrinkles now appearing on my forehead in confusion. "We agreed, right? Kathryn?"_

_She shrugged, shifting away._

_"Have you changed your mind?" I demanded hotly, grabbing her wrist to regain her attention. "That's it, isn't it? You're losing interest already. God, you're so infuriating."_

_"It's not that!"_

_"It is that!" I sat up, leaving her nestled against my pillows. "You're like a puppy, Kathryn, do you know that? You have the attention span of a newborn—"_

_"And you don't?" she shot back, looking affronted that I had likened her to a dog. "You're a hypocrite for saying that and a bastard for assuming that that's the case! Do you think so little of me, Valmont? Do you really think that I would fuck with your head?"_

_"Well, you already did it once." I said bitterly, "You made me leave Annette by preying on my reputation because you knew that was my weakness. Admit it, you just couldn't stand the sight of me actually being happy with another woman that you had to try to fuck everything up."_

_We had never spoken about the past until now. We had never argued about the fact that that cab almost ran me over if Ronald hadn't had the decency to pull me away just in time, it was too bitter to bring up and Kathryn and I both knew that it wouldn't end up on civil terms if it was ever the topic of our conversation._

_That did it. Whatever lazy, relaxed posture she had had was gone. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide with rage, her small fists were tightened and she looked about ready to murder me, which knowing her, wouldn't come as a shock._

_"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" she yelled, grabbing the discarded bathrobe on the floor to drape around her naked body. As she stepped off the bed, she started gathering her things yet somehow she managed to do all these all the while glaring at me. "You! Me! We're not cut out for this, Valmont."_

_"We are cut out for whatever the fuck we want to do."_

_"No," she grabbed the crucifix on the side table, wrapping it around her wrists while muttering angrily about the hidden location of her other shoe. "You're right! I'm fickle minded and you are too, we're too alike to even resemble a functioning relationship. I don't do relationships, Sebastian."_

_"No, you just do random men."_

_I ducked just in time to avoid a particularly hardbound book about the assail me. How could she even throw that hard?_

_"You insufferable, arrogant asshole! I have been loyal to you!"_

_I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, right. Don't you think I know about your date with Court Reynolds?"_

_She flinched, looking confused. "How did you know about that?"_

_"You mean how did I know you weren't at the spa and was in reality probably fucking that loser? Your mother told me. It seems she does have her use after all. You lied to me that day, but did I press with the issue? No! I didn't want to know about it! I can't stand even talking about it now!"_

_"That wasn't what it was like okay? I only went out with him to get Mother off my back and I didn't tell you because it meant nothing!"_

_"Well, you would know about feeling nothing, wouldn't you? It's not like you actually have an existing heart let alone the capacity to even conceive of the thought of actually feeling something. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you're only staying with me because you realized that no one can sufficiently fuck you the way I can."_

_Her mouth dropped open at my cruel remark and even I didn't believe I said it out loud._

_"I'm going to pretend I did not hear that remark." She spat, "But for your information, Sebastian, I did not fuck Court!"_

_"Not in the normal way, you mean. He probably fucked you in the mouth."_

_This time, the next thrown object hit its mark as her shoe—that strappy, particularly sharp heeled Christian Louboutin sandal which could have gouged an eye out— hit me on the shoulder. I hissed at the sudden pang of pain, immediately rubbing the sore spot and getting increasingly annoyed at the triumphant look in her eyes._

_"You're so sadistic!"_

_"We're going to end up killing each other if this continues! Don't you see, Sebastian? This will never really work out; we'll end up hating each other."_

_"But we're going to have fantastic, mind blowing sex."_

_My amusing comment failed to incite its desired laugh from her and I could tell that she was deathly serious._

_"Answer me this first." I began, my hand finally leaving my now sore shoulder. "Have you changed your mind about this? My father's cheating on Tiffany with Beatrice St. Clair, it's only a matter of time before they get a divorce. I caught him on the phone with his lawyers the other day, Kathryn. He was finalizing it already. This is going to happen, this is real. I'm not going to be related to you soon."_

_"We're not..." she smiled faintly, "Who's to say that one day you're going to come visit me at my condo and you won't find me fucking someone else? And while we're at that, you can't tell me that it's not a foreign concept for some big breasted bimbo to catch that wandering eye of yours. I hate sharing, Sebastian. If we're going to go on with this, you should know that should things decidedly get worse and you cheat on me, I'm going to severely do worse to you than I ever have to anybody else who fucked with me."_

_"Kathryn—"_

_"I'm not promising anything, okay? I know how we can get; I mean, look at us right now. I'm ready to strangle you and you're probably ready to do the same to me. I just don't want things to escalate like this every time."_

_We both turned at the sound of knocking and one of the servants announced rather timidly that there was a certain Ms. Hargrove outside the sitting room waiting for me. Kathryn's scowl was immediately more pronounced and she looked annoyed at the interruption. I approached her cautiously and kept her eyes on mine, I noted how the sash on her robe still remained untied and even then, despite the fact that Annette was outside, I wanted nothing more than to take that robe off and never let Kathryn leave the room._

I blink, moving in surprise when Amanda turns around and places an arm around me. I check her face and she is completely still, her hair a little mussed and small mouth slightly open.

"Stephen…" She murmurs against the pillow and her hand tightens as she grabs the skin on my stomach. Her fingernails are sharp and I suck in a sharp hiss, recoiling from the pain. There are tears falling from her closed lids and her lips are turned down. "I'm sorry… God… Please… Don't … He has nothing to do with… Don't… DON'T!"

Her fist tightens and the nails break through the skin. Unable to hold in the expletive any longer, I mutter a somewhat loud 'Fuck' and grab her wrist before she pulls out any of my organs.

"Amanda… Shh… It's okay…"

The raven haired girl remains asleep as the grasp of her nightmare refuses to let her go. It is only seldom that she cries, and when she does, it's usually in her unconscious state of mind. When I first bore witness to her tears, I was instinctively reminded of Kathryn. How funny it was that these two females were alike and how shattered and beloved they are to me.

_"Listen," I tried to smile and gently wrapped the sash for her. "You're a sarcastic, power tripping bitch and I know that. You have some issues regarding drugs and perhaps severe insecurities as proven by your bulimia. You're right, things aren't going to be easy."_

_"Gee, that's so sweet." She rolled her eyes, deadpanned._

_"I may be a smug, arrogant bastard at times, but I also know that when I want something, I will stop at nothing to get that. Right now, I don't just want you to fuck, although that part's really quite fun. Regardless of the seemingly impossible notion of us actually being together, I want you. Every part of you, okay? From that annoying way you bitch at me for no apparent reason, to even the way you steal the blankets at night, to how you cover three fourths of the space when we're asleep, to how cruel, antagonistic, and vindictive you are."_

_"I don't—"_

_"You're a difficult woman to figure out, and yes, you're really quite problematic to love." I shrugged helplessly, "But you should know by now that I love challenges and you're it Kathryn. You're the never ending challenge I'll always pursue because I really am certain that with you, things will never be boring. Those big breasted bimbos will have to wait because I, for one, am taken."_

_When I finished talking her mouth was on mine and I nearly forgot the fact that there was still one more loose end to tie up. We kissed for what seemed like hours, her fingers lightly tickling the back of my neck while I pulled her closer._

_When she pulled away, the teasing glint in her green eyes was back._

_"You're so…"_

_"Charming?"_

_"Whipped." She finished, placing her head on my shoulder. "Something bad's going to happen, Sebastian." Kathryn murmured so quietly I almost didn't hear it. "I just know it. Something doesn't feel right."_

_"I told you to stop snorting that shit. It's affecting your brain." I kissed her forehead, "Now I have to go, okay? Stop doubting so much, you're going to look ugly with all those wrinkles and then I'll have to go through the trouble of choosing another woman."_

_She laughed, but it was a forced one. Her serious expression told me that she still worried about something, but what? What was it about her foreshadowing that caused tiny prickles of anxiety to suddenly exist in my head? Probably because, as much as I hated to admit it, she was almost always right._

_"Things have been working to our advantage lately… I just don't think there's reason to be too confident about this. Life has a way of severely fucking with me, Sebastian."_

_I held her tighter, feeling like something inside of me was about to burst (and not necessarily in a sexual manner, mind you). When I inhaled the scent of her hair, (something flowery and distinctly Kathryn), I had no idea it would be the last time I would get to hold her like that without questioning her murderous tendencies._

_If I had known, I wish I could have held on longer._

_Since, like everybody else in this world, I was unaware of the disastrous outcome of this thing, I did no such thing. Had I known… Fuck, had I only known._

_Her mouth parted with a real grin and I smiled right back, kissing the tip of her nose. "Trust me; things can only be better from now on."_

_I quickly got dressed while she sat on my bed, playing with the pillows like a little girl. I felt her watching me intently, and I remember thinking in return that she looked so beautiful and she looked like she belonged there in my bed, in my room, and in my life. As I was about to leave, I heard her call out to me._

_"Sebastian, I…"_

_"What?"_

_She shook her head slightly; smiling to herself like it was some big secret she would taunt me into making her reveal. "Nothing. I'll tell you when you get back from your Aunt Helen's tonight. I wish you didn't have to go to the old bat."_

_"Me too, Kathryn. I'll be seeing you."_

_"Bye, Valmont."_

The wrist I had been holding loses its tension and by now her desperate cries are reduced to quiet whimpers. Amanda begins to pull away from me, never waking up, but the tears have been far too great and I am filled with concern. Sometimes I wonder if life sufficiently breaks all of us so that we may seek for comfort in another, and I wonder even further if that is the reason why I am where I am. She provides understanding while I provide her safety, at least from her own nightmarish past.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" her whimpers are getting increasingly louder again and I pull her against me, allowing her to come closer than any of those faceless women I had been fucking to forget the reason for my expiation.

"It's okay… Go back to sleep… Don't think about him…" I murmur endless phrases of comfort in her ears and she seems to hear me, eventually making only the sounds of even breathing.

When I look at her closely, I feel glad that at least I am able to do this for her. I feel glad that I am able to provide some sort of comfort, no matter how small it is. I hope Kathryn does too. I hope that when she falls asleep and if she dreams of that night, something will lull her back to sleep. I don't care if it's another man, I don't care if he touches her in places only I fashioned myself the one person who has the exclusive rights to do so, I just want her to feel safe wherever she is.

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><p><strong>AN: Underwent surgery so I am stuck at home for a bit, took a break from work to get this out. Thanks to those of you who send me messages to update, it means you are still thinking of this story, which means a lot to me. It is very much appreciated. Yes it is finished but I am an extreme workaholic so I have not had a lot of time to reedit and upload. But I will do what I can. Thank you for still reading! Carry on!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

A hand holding a crystal glass filled with the now too familiar liquid appears at the corner of my eye while I contemplate on my current solitude, looking troubled despite the glaring sunlight that touched my slightly tanned skin.

The reason for my restlessness? I was supposed to go back to New York, where I haven't set foot since the incident because I needed to get my transcript from Manchester Prep, as well as attend to some other financial matter regarding my trust fund. Over the past year (and now a few months) after forgoing my slot for Harvard, I had generally been a nomad. I suppose that Kathryn's return a week ago instigated the big, glaring fact that I have to at least make an attempt to continue living.

Thus, the plan to take what I had left behind in my hasty departure and leave for Europe directly from New York. I had already been accepted to one of the best schools available in Paris and my father saw it favorable that I finally start my education so that I would one day take over the company. This beautiful paradise of forgetting and of Amanda has done me good, but one cannot simply linger in places like this.

One can never linger in lies for far too long. Sooner or later it breaks you into two.

"Scotch?"

I take off my sunglasses and turn to face my stepsister looking at me with those large dark blue eyes of hers most men generally succumbed to.

"Amanda, it's two in the afternoon."

She takes a seat beside me, smirking while I take the glass from her hand anyway.

"It's not like it's ever stopped you before. In fact, when you moved here I thought you were a disgusting alcoholic."

I smile in reminiscence, "I do recall a statement about how 'hot' I was."

"I did not say that."

I wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me.

"It's bad to lie."

She stares at me, "It's bad to hit women too."

I nod quietly, "I know."

"Why did you hurt her?"

"You just don't know her like I do."

Her lips brush against my jaw, whispering teasingly. "If I did 'know' her like you did, I have no doubt you would have been turned on."

"Naturally. Placing two beautifully vicious women in the same room and watching them fool around is hardly what one would call dull."

"You always do that." She ponders out loud, smiling sadly because I had informed her of my intent to leave.

"Do what?"

"Avoid serious conversations with humor."

I grin back. I was truly going to miss her.

"And sex."

She grins mischievously, but the sadness in her eyes overcomes the mirth my comment induced.

"What time's your flight?"

I glance at my watch, stretching out my legs and resting them languidly while she cuddles beside me like a little girl aching for attention. Her affections toward me have grown since the news of my decision to finally leave had reached her and my fondness for her had grown as well, but as I've mentioned, things like this have to be done. In moving on, one must simply remember that there are certain sacrifices to be made.

"Six."

"You don't have to leave." She pouts, lowering her lashes in an effort to disarm me with her charm. I'm flattered at the effort she's putting up to make me stay, but it doesn't work.

She lays her head on my chest while it shakes from my laughter, "Oh gorgeous, aren't you just sick of me already?"

"Never. I only have one stepbrother, you know."

"And yet a handful of willing bedmates. Now, I know the caliber of my skill will make theirs undoubtedly dismal in comparison but you must at least try."

I laugh again when she pokes me indignantly, "With an attitude like that, you should be glad you're so handsome. Otherwise no one would ever come near you."

"Does that mean that you would have never given me the time of day if I had been overweight and disgusting?"

"Of course." She pauses rather hesitantly, her head leaving its resting place while she separated herself from me. "Will you miss me?"

I open my mouth for another clever retort but it quickly disintegrates into nothing as I catch a glimpse of her sadness. Ah, beautiful, sad and tragic Amanda St. Clair. Out of all the women I've bedded, she will hold a special place of fondness that will be embedded inside of me for as long as I can remember. Although I will never look at her the way I do Kathryn, she is nevertheless loved.

Sighing, I place my drink down and squeezed her wrist lightly. "Of course I will. How can you ask me such a thing?"

The act of affection I would never have done months before makes her smile and I love the way she smiles. Her eyes light up in its incandescent blue glow and her age show through the way her lips curve. I like basking in the tiny shred of innocence left in her even though I don't think she's quite aware of just how young she looked at that instant.

She looks at me for a long time, still with that fond and wistful expression before kissing my mouth in a chaste peck.

"Okay." She nods, standing up. "Okay."

"You won't be here when I leave?"

Then there is sorrow again at her impending loneliness, because I know for a fact that I have been the only person she ever told about Stephen. Her shoulders roll back and she towers before me, the sun places its rays on her back and her statuesque beauty was truly a sight I would remember.

"I'd like to skip it if you wouldn't mind." She says, giving me a small smile. "I'm horrible at goodbyes."

Hours later as I sit inside the plane a thought comes to me. With Amanda's decision to leave before I truly had to go, I realized that it was the same tactic Kathryn and I used. Do you find it confusing then? Let me explain. You see, I have come to realize that people like Amanda, Kathryn and I have different ways of dealing with sudden shifts of emotional levels. We all live in a world where control is practically the most important thing to all of us because living in such a fast paced life easily renders a human capable of falling through the cracks of having too much of everything. Therefore, what we do is distance ourselves from feeling too much because if we did, our precious control gets stolen from all of us and who will we be then if not disciplined gods?

* * *

><p><em>"Jesus Christ, Kathryn please don't do this… Please… Please… God… Jesus… Be okay… You'll be okay…"<em>

_I could almost feel tears of desperation form in my eyes as I gritted my teeth, cursing each red light that forced me to stop the car and waste precious minutes of Kathryn's waning life. The guilt for leaving Annette behind has temporarily taken a backseat in my mind and my conscience was not one of the things I currently prioritized._

_God dammit why the fuck was she not moving?_

_Her neck had slumped forward and her hair covered her face, looking like a broken object that was beyond fixing. I did not at the moment care about the repercussions of my action or hers, for that matter. Whether or not the blade in her hand was one of the many evidences of her crime, I did not stop to think. At that instant, all I cared about was getting her the help she needed because she just had to live._

_Green light._

_The sudden velocity of my car caused the back of her head to hit the headrest and I saw that the dried blood on her upper lip became replaced with a steady stream of red liquid and this increased my panic._

_Why the fuck was she bleeding so much? Oh God God God God please don't do this!_

_I was yelling at the cars that seemed to enjoy my madness because of its slow speed, my actions were that of a deranged madman. I did not care for etiquette or politeness. I only cared about one thing._

_This woman had to live._

_Red light. I nearly hit a pedestrian running the light._

_I thought I had never been happier at the sight of the word 'EMERGENCY' when I finally reached my destination. I practically jumped out of the car and opened the door, screaming my head off for some help._

_My fingers where shaking when I undid her seatbelt and as I carried her in my arms, she felt so light and completely still against me I wondered if, for the many times she's tempted death with her illegal ingestions, the grim reaper had finally caught up to her in sinister victory. I moved my arms and rubbed my chest against her face so that some of the blood left her skin, it was messy. Too messy. I wanted her to be perfect._

_"I NEED SOME HELP HERE!"_

_Then they were taking her from me and at first I never wanted to let her go. Their assurances of 'Sir she'll be okay' were insignificant to me._

_Finally they were able to take her from me and I cursed at the attendants who tried to calm me down so that I would answer their questions._

_Fuck the medical file! Who the fuck cares if she has a fucking record here, she's dying!_

_I spat out gibberish (or at least that's what it sounded to me at the time), and then snapped the details of her name, age, and everything else. Apparently satisfied, they let me pass and I sprinted to her side, my shirt now covered both in Annette's and Kathryn's blood._

_Is this the price I had to pay for my deception and foolishness?_

I open my eyes and my posture turns straight while the businessman who sat beside me gives me an odd look (which I ignore). The stale taste in my mouth tells me that I have been asleep for quite some time now, probably due to the vodka I had been asking from the flirtatious flight attendant who kept sending me signals I had no intention of returning.

* * *

><p>New York is familiar in sight, but there is also that feeling of dread that occupies me as I stare out the window of the moving limousine I arranged for. My purpose was simple: go to Manchester Prep, then the bank, my old house (reassuring myself that Kathryn wouldn't be there because she had school), and then perhaps stay at the hotel for the night before leaving for Europe tomorrow. I already had my things sent over so it wouldn't be an inconvenience at all.<p>

The problem with long rides and familiar sights is that I tended to recall certain scenarios of the past I'd rather forget. For instance, I remember that night I spent at the hospital with her. I was torn between hating her and loving her, torn between wanting her to die and begging for her to live, what a night that was. I had been confused and angry and I suppose betrayed.

_Four hours after the announcement of Annette Hargrove's death just a few doors down, the weight of my decision slammed into me with such intensity I felt as though someone had sucker punched me wearing a steel glove. The medical equipment which was all hooked up to the scarily pale brunette lying before me beeped steadily. The condition was critical._

_Just an inch over to the wrong side and she would be gone too._

_My concern for her outweighed whatever rage I had and I caressed her arm, murmuring nonsense (anything for her to wake the fuck up!)._

_The instant she opened her eyes I felt like jumping up and down (or least pulling that ludicrous dextrose from her nostrils so I could pull her to me and hug her tightly)._

_She made a sound that sounded like her throat had been strangled because of its dryness. As her large eyes blinked slowly, she stared at the ceiling before looking at me._

_"What happened?"_

_I stared at her incredulously before standing up to lean over her and hug her tightly._

_She spared me the ridicule for my out of character reaction, recognizing the way my eyes had been worried and alarmed when saw me._

_"Sebastian? What happened? I blacked out…"_

_I didn't reply and at that moment made a decision of my own. She was vicious and yet she was someone I felt like I had to protect. Even from herself._

Fuck.

If I could just order my mind to stop remembering, that would be great. But I can't. The mind is sometimes an entity with a life of its own.

I glance at my cell phone, cocking my head slightly when a thought occurs to me.

"Tuttle?"

Blaine's voice is disbelieving on the other line, "Valmont? So you're back from the dead, huh? What can I do for you?"

"I need some pot (I doubt it'll help but I suppose it didn't hurt to try). Where are you?"

"At…" he names the cemetery and a chill comes over me. It is where Annette is buried.

"What are you doing there?"

There's a pause on the other line that should have told me to forget the pot.

"Just meet me here."

_"Sebastian?"_

_I looked at her, trying to ignore the other face of a beautiful blonde that my mind created. An evil chimera created by my now persistent conscience._

_"What's wrong with you?" she asked, annoyed. "You're always…"_

_"What?" I demanded, "Gone? Indifferent?"_

_I glared at her and she doesn't glare back. She sat up from the bed and scrutinized me, her fingers playing with the ends of the thin white sheet._

_"You've changed." She said quietly._

_"People change, Kathryn." I retorted sarcastically, "It's the way life goes."_

_I couldn't do it. This horrible secret chewed off whatever happiness I could have felt with her. This was now wrong, a relationship negated by my wrongful action of lying to her and of choosing her over Annette. I couldn't breathe. I had to leave._

_"Fuck you, Valmont. I'm not putting up with your fucking mood swings." She narrowed her eyes before sighing, her beautiful face falling._

_The rare expression caught my interest and tugged at my heart. Regardless of whether or not I see_

_Annette nearly all the time in my head, I can't deny the very fact that I love this woman. I do. I really fucking do._

_But it's just too much._

_I approached her and caught her face in my hands, kissing her delicious mouth._

_"I love you so much." I said quietly, "Don't forget that."_

_"We're going to be okay." She answered, looking at me with such intensity as though she knew what was going through my mind and what I planned to do._

_I did what I had to do. I lied to her again._

_"Yes." I said, kissing her like tomorrow would never arrive. Maybe it never will. "We're going to be okay."_

_The next day I arrived in Monte Carlo._

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you all for your continued support! Your reviews are highly appreciated! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

As I sit inside the spacious vehicle with my legs fully stretched across the otherwise empty space, I almost automatically reach toward my left side only to touch the leather interior of the limousine.

Empty.

This gesture has become something an idiosyncrasy for me because I usually place my journal on my left side. When I feel anxious or when I am in one of my more philosophical moods, the texture of the leather against my fingertips somehow soothes me. We all have our own source of calm; I prefer to think of my journal as the counterpart to Kathryn's crucifix.

We both get a sense of how we are as people in the objects that we usually bring (respectively), Kathryn's trinket for example, is beautiful. The distinct style and the intricate engraving at the back of the pendant (though nobody else knows it) is something that radiates both elegance and innocent beauty yet it is filled with something deadly on the inside. My journal is, or rather was, given its unfortunate demise at the hands of my ex-girlfriend and stepsister, not so complicated. It is the vessel not only for my secrets, but for Kathryn's as well.

Now it was gone.

I sigh, my forefinger and thumb fiddling with the black stitches of the leather covering my seat. As the traffic slowed the passing scenery to a stop, I realize that like a twisted horror movie containing a haunted house it seems as though it beckons to me in its grandeur and the mixture of horrible and good memories that seemed to escape through every window and door like there were mouths and eyes filled with wispy eerie smoke.

I blink and order for the driver to park, thinking that there were certain things I left behind in that room that I wanted back.

Like my life.

As I enter the infamous townhouse that once housed the terrible pair who met their own end at the hand of a single razor blade and fine white powder, my senses are assailed by the familiarity of this place. The servants were gone but everything remained as meticulous as it was before. Why wouldn't it be? Its beauty was unmarred by the lack of human usage.

I keep my chin straight ahead, refusing to be caught up in nostalgia.

I refuse to see all these in my head.

Like, for instance—

That was the living room where we fucked. I could still feel the softness of her skin while I rubbed against her body. She had been under me, quietly moaning her pleasure in graceful breaths while she grasped at my back.

That was the piano bench where she tried to stop me from being angry at her because she had gone out with an old boyfriend behind my back. I had remained stoic and sullen while she chuckled in a low voice and started calling me pussywhipped to get a rise out of me.

It had worked. We started arguing and yelling at each other just like always, after which she suddenly got that look in her eyes and she kissed me. We made up for an hour.

Over there, just around the corner was the dining table where we spent the night of her birthday, having sent all the servants away for the entire evening.

I walk quickly when I was in the hall that led to our rooms, because this is where the ghosts of my Christmas past resided the most. As I enter my room, I stop in the middle to survey what had become of my bedroom during my absence.

Still the same. Everything seems to be just how I left it, except for the metal trashcan that did not belong there at all. Sticking out of the trashcan was the burnt remnants of my favorite suits and it didn't take a genius to figure out that this was Kathryn's doing. I don't know how long it had been there, but knowing her, she probably burned it out of spite and instructed the maids to leave it in case I returned.

Instead of feeling annoyed at her way of retribution (some of those suits were custom made by the designers themselves!), I smirk sadly and pass by it to lie down on the bed.

Tuttle could wait an hour or two.

I immediately felt my bones seemingly melt with the soft mattress while my arms reach up I place my hands at the back of my neck, closing my eyes to allow myself the sleep I needed.

One minute passed. Then two. Then five.

And to no avail, I am without any success of slumber.

My eyes trail over to the ugly object that destroyed the sense of elegance provided by the antiques and wooden furniture in the room, its contents the charred testimony of a scorned (and particularly cruel) woman. Upon glancing at it, I realize that it is not only my favorite suits she had used as fuel to burn the inferno of her hatred for my departure. She also included the two scarves she gave me for my birthday.

Ah, the scarves. One was a dark blue while the other forest green, both cashmere and undoubtedly very expensive. Now it was black and it smelled like ashes.

Curse these ghosts that fill my head with such memories. I hate it, but the inevitable comes.

And I remember.

_I laughed along with the guests of the party supposedly commemorating my birthday, secretly rolling my eyes and eyeing the champagne tray the waiters walked around with. The hypocrisy of it all, I cursed how Tiffany managed to make my birthday an event to plan like it was one of her fucking charity functions._

_Annette reached up and fixed my tie (it had gone somewhat lopsided throughout the course of meeting and mingling with these fools I called friends), and I realized that with her glowing, flushed cheeks and her shining, happy blue eyes, we were the depiction of the perfect couple._

_I would have believed that, even enjoyed it, a month ago. Now I only smiled indulgently at her and touched her arm gently, thanking her while the others (mostly females, I've noticed) looked awed and perhaps envious (am I not allowed to be arrogant?) at the way we looked._

_"So when do you think we can be alone?" my girlfriend asked me, smiling mischievously while her pearly white smile brightened her openly beautiful face. "I'd like to have you all to myself tonight, Mr. Valmont."_

_I glanced at her, formulating a response while looking for that one brunette that I had yet to see. As I opened my mouth to speak, a petite young woman appeared before me as though she had sensed that she was the occupant of my thoughts and decided to grace me with her needed (and wanted) presence._

_Kathryn smiled kindly (though I knew that this was fake) at Annette and stared at me, the long curled lashes of her eyes moving while she blinked._

_Ah, the two women of my life. One I had always loved while the other I had loved for the briefest of time before the former decided to demand for my constancy. My stepsister kissed my cheek in a chaste, ironically sisterly manner while she cupped my cheek._

_"Go to your room in five minutes." She murmured against my skin, "I have a surprise for you."_

_Without waiting for a response, she disappeared back into the crowd but I was quick to follow. Purposely spilling champagne all over my suit, I put on quite a show of being annoyed before excusing myself to clean up properly._

_As soon as I made sure we were both alone, I make a slow sprint and catch her from behind, grabbing her waist while I covered her neck in open mouthed kisses that burned through us both so much I felt as though there was this voracious hunger inside of me that can never be filled unless I took her right then and there._

_"Down boy." She gasped while I ran my hand over her breast, "Someone might see."_

_"Let them. Those morons could be taught a thing or two about how to please you, or any woman for that matter."_

_"Mmm…" she murmured while she struggled to get the door open. As soon as we got inside, I found a box resting on my bed. I should have opened it but how could I really, when I had Kathryn inside the room?_

_How could I not even look at her without wanting to drop everything else and… Wait. No. I'm definitely not that whipped. God, sometimes I even disgust myself. I would never hear the end of it if she even knew what I was thinking._

_I heard her small pants and it honestly did nothing to decrease the bulge that had begun to manifest itself down there, she extricated herself from me (with much difficulty, as I refused to let go) and got the box, handing it to me with an expectant gleam in her irises._

_I took it through narrowed eyes, shaking it like it contained a bomb._

_"It's not ticking…" I commented, smirking._

_"Trust me," she licked my earlobe, her hand inserting through the gap of my button down shirt. "You'll like it."_

_"Will I?" I whispered, closing my eyes when she started unzipping my pants._

_"Mhmm…"_

_I opened it eagerly and realized that it was nothing more than two scarves. I had a lot of those in my closet, and unless they were made out of gold thread, I wondered what the commotion was._

_I couldn't mask my disappointment, "Oh," I mutter unenthusiastically. "Great. Just what I've always wanted, Kathryn. Two scarves, because I couldn't afford to get one of my own."_

_She punished my sarcasm with a quick pinch at my nipple, causing me to hiss._

_"Are you a dominatrix by nightfall? Because it would certainly explain a lot of things."_

_She smiled coyly, "That's only part of your gift."_

_"Hmm… Unless you have twins wearing nothing but big red bows hiding in my closet for a little group activity I'm afraid I'm going to be severely disappointed."_

_She didn't answer and without breaking eye contact, she backed away from me._

_"What's going on in that neurotic head of yours, Kathryn?" I teased, still holding her gift in my hand._

_She opened her mouth slightly and as soon as she was settled comfortably on the bed, she raised her arms so that her wrists were near the bedposts._

_The warning bells rang in my head loudly while I slowly processed her actions. My jaw must have dropped several inches as I gaped at her and then at the scarves, then back at her again._

_"Like I said," she licked her lips, looking as perfect and trusting as she'd ever been. "You'll like it."_

Click. Click. Click.

I sit up, my ears pricking at the muffled sound of high heels touching the floor. Did the room opposite my just open or was it merely my imagination (and tired mind)?

No. She can't be here. I can't face her, not after what I'd done.

I leave the bed and sit on the ottoman, my heart racing at the possibility that it would be her and I would once again be faced with a confrontation I was not prepared for. I could see the knob on my door turn slowly, again reminiscent of horror stories wherein the suspense was at an all time high. I'm not a fan of movies myself, but I can certainly feel the tension now.

I grip the cushion.

The door stops turning and it returns to its original position. I hear footsteps walking away briskly.

Call me a coward if you must, but I wait ten minutes before leaving. This awful dance of avoidance frustrates me, don't get me wrong, but these old ghosts won't let me be and can I be blamed for wanting to get away? If the person on the other side had been her, did she feel it as well?

Was she as unprepared as I was to face the past or was she prepared to forget it and leave the unanswered as it is now?

* * *

><p>I arrive at the cemetery soon after and I see Blaine holding an umbrella while the weather gave the world a small drizzle to quench its thirst. I suppose it was the frayed nerves of being here again, not just in New York, but where Annette was buried, but I hear the words:<p>

"…Merteuil was a good woman… Kind… Such a shame…"

I swear for that brief moment of possibility wherein the deceased woman had been Kathryn, the entire world blackened into the ashes and dust that was in the trash can she had left in my room. When I walk faster, you can see the immediate sigh of relief escape me when I find the crowd's heads turn to look at me, and one of those heads was hers.

Alive and silently furious.

Her eyes narrows into slits and she whispers something to Blaine, who looks uncomfortable while her nails dig into his arm.

That's Kathryn for you.

As she speaks about her deceased mother, her voice is carefully modulated and she sounds like she really is a grieving daughter. I used to admire that about her. Then I began to hate it. I began to hate everything about her because I had to.

Final goodbyes are said, none of which are heartfelt. After the casket is lowered, the funeral is over and the guests return to their lives without any second thoughts about the dead woman who was nothing more than a greedy, selfish gold digger who hid behind charities and expensive materials to compensate for her lack of heart.

I cautiously approach her while she is preoccupied with cursing at Blaine (I hear the words 'faggot' (for him) and 'bastard' (for me). Blaine, on the other hand, remains placid and even appeasing. He reasons to her in calm tones and when I am in front of them, close enough not to be ignored, they both turn to look at me.

"I 'm sorry." I offer lamely, awkward under her gaze. "I didn't know."

Blaine looks at us, from her and then at me.

Kathryn takes a step closer.

The tears she had 'cried' earlier for her mother were gone, disintegrating quickly to be replaced by an emotion more authentic than her crocodile tears and fake sadness. One more step and one more reach; she would have fit so well against me.

No one makes a move.

I feel sick because up close I can see the bruise on her face, the shade not even helped by makeup. Her lip is still split and there is still dried blood crusting the line.

"Kathryn," Blaine begins, trying to patch up something he can never do himself because it is not his bridge to build.

It is ours to burn.

She looks up at me and leans closer like she was going to tell me one of her secrets and she had to make sure no one else heard it.

Then, with three words she turns and walks away.

I don't follow her.

I still hear her reply said with so much conviction as I lose my craving for pot and leave Blaine and the cemetery behind.

It becomes a part of the ghosts of New York.

And as I would come to realize, it would be the reminder for the remorse I would feel after my visit to Manchester Prep wherein Dean Hargrove would have a talk with me in his office to tell me the truth about

Annette because a year had given him time to think and reflect on the incident that ruined so many lives.

I would then want to strangle him.

His words would become that of a man also sorry for keeping the truth from us. His words would be incoherent to my ears. I only heard the following because Kathryn's parting words kept echoing in my head.

I would only hear these from Dean Hargrove:

Troubled.

Suicidal.

Moved.

To.

Start.

Over.

Not.

Your.

Fault.

Then her voice would come, cold and unforgiving.

Over and over again.

"I hate you."

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the delay! Thanks for those of you who have been sending me messages about it, I appreciate the support very much. Hope you enjoy this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

I am reminded of Shakespearian tragedies wherein the irony is thick and the timing is always a mistake.

A nauseating feeling makes its way into my entire body as soon as I am able to fully comprehending everything Dean Hargrove said. Suddenly the large space unoccupied inside the limo can never be enough for me. I tug almost insistently at the collar of my shirt, being stifled into madness while I sit in tense silence.

"Where to, sir?"

I glance at the driver who seems to look at me with a mix of respect and pity, having seen the weariness in my eyes.

Where to, indeed?

_"You'll like it."_

_"You'll… You don't allow yourself to be dominated."_

_"I know."_

_A beautiful smile on her face._

_God, I love her._

_I crawled over her and stared at her face._

_The scarves felt like bliss materialized into my hands._

_She bit her lower lip a little and squirmed underneath me, her brown hair covered the area of the pillow where her head rested._

_"Kathryn, are you sure about this?"_

_She frowned for a while, looking doubtful._

_"It's something different." She answered thoughtfully, unbuttoning the rest of my shirt._

_"It is."_

_Her hands pulled the cloth from my shoulders and she sat up suddenly._

_I tried to make out what was going on beneath her expression._

_She stared at me for a long time, "If that door opened and Annette walked in, tell me you'll make your choice known."_

_It was the easiest question she had ever asked me._

_"I've already made it." I answered, smiling. "Isn't it obvious?"_

_"Yes," she replied. "But I'd like to hear you say it."_

_"You, Kathryn. I choose you."_

_It's been this way for as long as I can remember._

"Sir? Where can I take you?"

"My house."

-0-0-0-

I open the door to her room, my entire body wired so tightly I find myself inadequate for words.

She is seated on the bed where we made our bet as though she had been waiting for me to come. Her bags are arranged neatly on one side of the room, clearly she is preparing to leave New York.

You haven't the faintest idea how my gut twisted at the sight of that.

We stare at each other for a long moment as she scrutinizes the sudden shift of emotion in my eyes. Now there is no anger, there is only regret and guilt. There has never been another moment as awkward as this, even when she went to Monte Carlo to see me. Watching her look back at me, I wonder about this seemingly wretched relationship that may have been condemned to fail at the very start. I think, that despite the fact that we have both (in our own ways) fucked each other up and still managed to forgive (but never forget), that perhaps this was the last straw.

Maybe it will never be repaired. Maybe I had obliterated whatever ties we may have had completely the moment I struck her.

_"Do you swear that?"_

_I smiled, "Swear what?"_

_She didn't blink and those green eyes (jaded and yet still so exquisite) continued looking up at me._

_"That you'll choose me." Her gaze looked clouded, "Because you do know I'm going to severely fuck you up if you're just mindfucking me right now."_

_"Of course I do and I will. Why are you being this way?" I teased, stroking the side of her face with my thumb. "So clingy. Why, if I didn't know anything better I'd swear you were in love with me."_

_She rolled her eyes and smirked, "Oh, and a sappy declaration of love and devotion from me would just about make your day, wouldn't it?"_

_"Considering the fact that your pride is as large as your ego, I'm not exactly holding my breath."_

_She kissed me and I felt her fingernails scratch gently at my scalp while I crushed her body against mine, momentarily dropping the scarves at the side of the bed. We kissed voraciously and intensely, knowing our time was limited for now and that sooner or later we had to return and slip back into our own roles wherein we were related and therefore had boundaries that could never be crossed._

"Kathryn, I—"

"Know what really happened? What, Sebastian? Did Hargrove tell you that Ms. Purity was a nutcase? That it wasn't your fault? Yes, I know. You don't have to explain it to me since he told me the same thing before."

I gape at her.

"You… You knew?"

She shrugs, "It doesn't really matter now, does it? What use do I have for it?"

"I suffered for a year and you couldn't pick up a fucking phone to call me so I would stop blaming myself?"

"Funny thing about phone calls," she retorts coolly, glaring at me. "It only works when you actually know THE NUMBER OF THE PERSON YOU'RE CALLING!"

"You would have found a way!"

She stands up, gritting her teeth. "You don't know what you've done to me, do you?"

I close my eyes for a second to process the out of the blue response.

She shoves me, suddenly she is in front of me and we are so close I can see how much I've broken her again.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME!" she screams, hateful and without any holding back. "I WANTED TO PUNISH YOU! I WANTED TO LET YOU ROT IN YOUR GUILT! I HATE YOU! I. FUCKING. HATE. YOU!"

She makes a fist and it hits my chest, the bones of her hands make me flinch but I take it all. It's a cycle. I hurt her and she hurts me. It had always been that way.

_After all our clothing were hastily tugged, pulled, and freed, she shifted and began rubbing her body against mine. I could hear her mouth dispel hot air while she breathed, consumed by the heat of this madness we were both all too eager to fall under._

_"God… Fuck…"_

_I was incoherent from the overwhelming sensations she was bringing upon me._

_She slipped her tongue in my mouth while the other hand when in between our bodies, going for that particular part of my anatomy that soon caused me to gasp in the midst of kissing her. I left her mouth and went to her neck, upon where I heard her voice. Distinctly consumed with lust and anticipation._

_"Do it, Sebastian."_

_"Do what?" I mumbled, lost in her skin._

_I felt the scarves in my hand as she fumbled with it._

"I loved you, you bastard!" she yells, suddenly shaking. "YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU AND THEN YOU FUCKED ME UP! YOU LEFT!"

I try to wrap my arms around her but she slaps me and I feel my face sting as my neck snaps to one side.

"I'm sorry… God… I'm sorry."

"For what?" she challenges, gesturing to her face. "For this? For hitting me? For hurting me? What, you fucking coward? TELL ME WHAT!"

"FOR EVERYTHING!"

"IT'S NOT GOING TO FIX THINGS!"

"I KNOW! IT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT I'M SORRY!"

She stops hitting me and we look at each other for a while.

There are tears in her eyes.

There is remorse in mine.

_I looked up and again our eyes are locked, her chest was heaving slightly and her face red. Her mouth was open and swollen and shiny from our kisses and I don't think that at that moment I could have been happier._

_Again, she raised her arms over her head. She saw my hesitation and smiled slightly._

_"It's okay."_

_"You're not into this." I wrung the scarves in my hands indecisively, "I don't want to have to make you feel like—"_

_Her smile interrupted my answer._

_"I want you to."_

_"Why?"_

_"I just do."_

"Sorry for what, Sebastian?" she asks, "For believing the best of her and the worst of me? You're sorry because you saw her as this pure, innocent girl while I'm the fucking villain capable of so many cruel things? You're sorry because you trusted her more than you trusted me?"

I remain quiet while she wipes her tears with the back of her hand like they were poisonous.

"Sorry for leaving me? For abandoning our plans? For destroying something that was so difficult to build? For fucking me and then leaving without saying anything because you're a gutless coward?"

"Everything." I reply, sinking to my feet while I place my palms on my face. "For everything."

"Do you want to know why I didn't say anything about what Hargrove said when I went to Monte Carlo?" she tells me, her voice disembodied because I am safe in the darkness of my closed eyes.

"I thought that if you saw me, you would remember that I'm not capable of something like that." She stands up and starts gathering her things, ignoring my pathetic state on the floor. "Clearly that wasn't the case. Clearly Annette was the embodiment of all that was good and pure and even though you chose me, I could have never been trusted too much, couldn't I? Because maybe if Hargrove hadn't explained that his daughter, your beloved, precious virgin, was disturbed, you would have never given me the chance of being innocent from all of this. To you I was the murderer, the doer of all that was wrong and sick and twisted in the world."

I can't speak anymore. I'm tired of all of this so I allow her to continue as she gathers her things from the dresser. She is leaving and I can't stop her. I've lost the right to stop her a long time ago.

_"Does it hurt?"_

_She tugged her arms and we both saw the scarves move at the sudden motion. I had been careful not to tie the knots too tightly and judging from the lack of discomfort on her face, she was okay with it as well._

_She shook her head._

_I took a moment to commit this image in my memory of her, the only vicious woman in my life whose pride cannot be exceeded, underneath me looking glorious and pale and gorgeous with her hands tied and her eyes so trusting. I vowed then never to violate that trust because it was something she never gave to anybody else._

_We shared a grin filled with the promise of better things to come._

_"Come here." She said, licking her lips._

_We kissed and I used my hands to explore her body while she gave satisfied whimpers that escaped through the small opening of her mouth. When I entered her, I saw her lips part and her eyes shut tightly._

_"Yes." She breathed, "We fit perfectly."_

_"We always have." I answered, pulling out and pushing in slowly to give us both time to adjust._

_The scarves pulled at her wrists as she tugged hard on it, her arms moving in her frustration to wrap them around my back._

"Were you never going to see me again if you hadn't known what really happened?"

I remove my hands from my eyes and find her looking at me expectantly, her eyes filled with angry tears again. I should lie to her, to say no, that I could have never stayed away too long, I should say that and actually say anything to make her stay.

But she doesn't deserve my lies.

"Yes."

She shook her head slightly in disappointment at my reply. "You bastard."

"I'm sorry, Kathryn. You have no idea how sorry I am right now."

"I don't really give a fuck how sorry you are, Valmont. We were…" she falters for a second, clenching her fists. "We had something. Now it's gone. It's all gone, Sebastian. You ruined it. You want me out of your life? Fine. Wish granted."

_"God… Yes… Right there…"_

_I was lost inside of her, in and out, pleasure and heaven and an explosion of colors and emotions and everything in our coupling. She had her head buried in my neck, her mouth filled with moans and dirty words that only fueled my strength._

_More._

_More._

_I want you more and more._

_"Untie me." She commanded hoarsely just as the rhythm turned into a fierce pounding at her insistence._

_I stopped for a moment and quickly obliged. I saw her wrists chafed red and I frowned, kissing each wrist __while she smiled at my behavior._

_"Aren't you just the sweetest pervert I've ever seen?" she said snidely (yet still somehow I sensed the __underlying affection)._

_"Be quiet or I might just leave you hanging." I replied, returning to our feverish and nearly delirious __joining. She turned her head to the side while I used my arms to support my weight, worried that it would __overcome her small body and she would be uncomfortable._

_I was careful to watch her reaction while I continued, her legs moved and opened wider. Each gasp, each breath, each word that came out of her, I relished because the tone and the voice with which she said it was so unlike her. Her fingernails scraped at my arms while we both grew closer and closer to release._

_It increased, she began meeting me halfway, thrust for thrust. My equal and everything I wanted. She began kissing me again, and I was certain that like her, I could never get enough. When I came almost the same time as her, she opened her arms and I collapsed on her, tired, sweaty, and contented._

"You should have just told me you knew what happened." I say in my defense, grabbing at the last chance to resolve this matter. "Why didn't you? It would have made things easier, maybe I wouldn't have hit—"

"What would that have proved? That you needed Hargrove's blessing? That you never trusted me enough to believe it on your own?" she laughed hollowly at herself, "Do you want to know something funny? If you had agreed to come back with me, I would have brought you to Dean Hargrove and he would have told you. I thought of it as a test, and you know what, you failed miserably. Abso-fucking-lutely failed it. You don't deserve anything anymore."

She's got me there.

I say the next, most used words in the English language that had in the past caused me to scoff.

"I just… Can't we just start over?"

Miserably. I am failing miserably. It was lame, and it wouldn't have worked on her.

_This is exactly how I want to spend every night._

_This was the thought that repeated itself over and over in my head while I listened to her breathing. She had her arms wrapped around me tightly in a possessive manner and I kissed her neck, enjoying the feeling of her underneath me._

_"Thank you. I liked my gift very much." I whispered in her ear, "It's the best I've gotten."_

_"It should be. It came from me."_

_I chuckled, "Of course. What was I thinking?"_

_My beautiful, perfect Kathryn. Mine. Mine. Mine!_

_It was perfect. I didn't want to leave._

_"Sebastian?"_

_Her voice was on the edge of sleep and I lifted myself off her, tilting my head so that our eyes met._

_"What?"_

_She blinked then, her eyes had that misty look one had when they were about to slumber. With a tone that __screamed of honesty, she proceeded to complete what I was going to remember as the best birthday gift __I've ever gotten._

_"I love you."_

She stops in what she was doing and walks to stand in front of me, now our roles were reversed. I was the one who was running after her, and perhaps like me, she would never stop to let me catch up. Like I said, this is the condition of our existence. I hurt her and she hurts me.

How will this end?

"We had something." She repeats quietly, "I gave you a chance and you fucked it up. It's too late, Sebastian. You may have chosen me that night, but your loyalty remained with her."

As she begins to leave, I stand up and my jaw tightens.

"I'm not giving up." I say stubbornly, refusing to let this be another fucking tragedy. I've had enough of that.

She stops and turns around, her eyes fighting to stay indifferent. I don't buy it. There's that look again. It's that same look she gave me when we had our fights in Monte Carlo. It's the look of hatred and disappointment I loathed.

"That's ironic of you to say," She answers, "Because you had already given up the moment you left New York."

_I froze._

_My eyes widened._

_She was still looking at me with that half smile curving her mouth._

_"What did you say?" I gasped in surprise._

_"I love you." She repeated, "Is that really so difficult to hear?"_

_"Not really. It's just difficult to believe that you said it."_

_"Well, Valmont." Kathryn said, pulling me down for a kiss. "That's your problem, isn't it? Sometimes you __never give me enough credit. Have a little faith; I've been known to surprise people once in a while."_

-0-0-0-

She is gone.

* * *

><p>AN: Another reedited chapter! Enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

After Kathryn's departure I could say that I spent a week inside my old room locked up while I drank myself to death, but that wouldn't sound like me, would it?

Now don't get me wrong, what happened with her completely fucked me up. Make no mistake about that because even though it has been a couple of days since our last confrontation in New York, I still felt hollow afterwards. You should have seen the look in her eyes, I don't think any amount of writing or any type of adjective could be used to describe it accurately but I did try.

You're wondering what I did after she left. You're wondering why I didn't exhibit some sort of romantic gesture. The Big Gesture, wherein I ran after her car screaming for her to come back. You're wondering why I didn't beg her to stay, why I never tried to force tears to come out of my eyes as a last ditch effort to stop her.

Do you really think that I, Sebastian Valmont, would have done something like that?

Then again, I did do that to Annette, didn't I? I ran after her. Perhaps if you were there you would even remember the expression on her pretty face while the escalator slowly revealed me waiting for her. I still remember that day. I woke up with Kathryn taunting me, angering me, and then I realized I loathed losing.

I didn't know what made me go after Annette, if I really did make the Big Gesture or if I only did that because the very image of Kathryn's smug and victorious face annoyed me to no end. Maybe it had been a little bit of both.

You'd like to know the difference between the two women in my life?

When I went after Annette, it was dependent on the fact that I knew her for her mercy. Her eternal belief in my innate goodness, her understanding and her kindness. I valued all of these even though I would soon realize later on that perhaps these were only layers that housed a distraught young woman who only wanted to be loved. When I stood there waiting for her, with my light blue shirt nearly rumpled (yes, I do remember such things. My memory is both a curse and a blessing.) somehow just watching her face, I knew that I would be forgiven.

I was right, wasn't I?

But Kathryn is such a different story. I bet you that if I had done the same thing, if I had beaten her to her destination, probably at the airport because I don't think she liked taking the train and waited for her while she stood on the escalator, I would have walked away with a red handprint on my face and that feeling of raw, gut wrenching ego deflating pain greater than the state she left it at. I did not count on her mercy, that is to say I don't think the worst of her. Even if I seemed like I did, would it matter? Despite all her wrongdoings and her capabilities I find myself inexplicably drawn to her. What else must I say? I love her. The explanation ends there.

My transgression with Annette was child's play compared to what I had done with Kathryn. With the former, it was infatuation. Alright, perhaps love. It was full of trust and the promise of something better.

My fault was making her think I led her on, that I was only baiting her when in fact she had started to get to me. I thought at that moment that I had fucked things up and that it was the worst thing I could ever do to someone I loved.

I was wrong.

With Kathryn, it was a sin. It was hatred and anger and everything all wrapped up in a single backhand across her face. I don't think I'll ever forget the way she fell under the brute force of my hand. I know that I will never forget the bruises on her face. It wounded me more than her physical and psychological retribution. The amount of guilt I feel right now is so magnanimous sometimes I think it will turn into this vile monster that will consume me and ultimately kill me. A bit melodramatic, I know. But then again, you're not exactly in my position, are you? You've never exactly felt just how right Kathryn was with me.

You've never seen that surprised expression on her face when I told her I loved her, nor did you feel the exact same astonishment when I heard those three words come out of her mouth without me having to persist for her to say so. You've never felt exactly what it was like to love and be loved by someone like her, someone cruel and heartless and so goddamn beautiful no one else ever compares.

So yes, unless you have someone exactly like Kathryn (I won't say Kathryn herself because she is mine and I will fuck you up so badly if you try to get her from me), try to empathize. It's not often you would hear me talk like this.

Would you like to know something?

I'm scared. I'm fucking scared. I've never come across anything like this, I used to think that I knew every inch of her. I used to take pride in the fact that despite our numerous fights (most of which were based on jealousy after we finally both got it through our thick heads that we're insane about each other), I knew exactly what to say or do to get her back. Sometimes it had been in the form of jewelry, other times we just had it out. I would go to her room and lock it, her temper would go off on me and we would yell at each other. Objects would be thrown and destroyed. Then we'd end up on the floor or on her bed, clawing at each other's clothes like we had been apart for too long and the hunger inside of us growled to be filled.

I was sure that every time she said she hated me or that she wanted me to fuck off or to leave her alone, she never meant it. It's like telling a transparent lie.

How do I know that? Because I'm exactly the same way with her.

It's hard to believe that just a year and four months ago, things had been that easy.

For the first time in my life, I am at an utter loss. I really don't know what to do or where to even go from here. My schedule for Europe had been delayed because of my predicament. How ironic was it that this time, it was she who left New York and me behind?

"Valmont, I swear if you don't blink I'm declaring you clinically dead."

A voice does indeed make me blink and I turn to face a somber looking Blaine.

I carelessly attend to my cigarette, now chain smoking for the past two hours since I drove over to his house.

"She's gone." I mutter, "Just like that, Tuttle."

The words I should have said died in my mouth.

_Come back. I'm sorry. God. Please. Don't leave. I love you so much._

His bleached eyebrow rises and he stretches out his gangly legs on across the floor, lighting a joint.

"Well, you are the same. Two of a kind, right? That's your official motto as a couple? Shouldn't it make sense that she would also leave you just like you left her?"

His voice has a sharp edged tone to it and I immediately pick it up. Blaine and Kathryn had always been close and like me, the blond queer had a soft spot for her.

"I wouldn't say what she did to me was exactly how I left her."

"Ah yes, you were surprisingly the crueler one. You fucked her and made a promise you never kept." Blaine narrows his eyes thoughtfully, concentrating on the lit joint. "You know, I've known you for a long time. Don't get me wrong, you've done a lot of fucked up things and I've even found most of them amusing. But what you did to her, well, you're just a bastard, aren't you?"

"Oh, you're on her side now?"

"Don't be a whiny bitch, Valmont."

"Of course not. That's your role, Tuttle."

He rolls his eyes, "I'm not the one all 'She's gone I can't get her back', am I?"

"Fuck off, will you?"

"You fuck off. This is my house."

We lapse into silence for a while.

Then again, Blaine Tuttle was the kind of man who never knew how to keep silent for too long.

"How did it happen?"

I flick the cigarette from my fingers and watch it land on the floor, "How did what happen?"

"You and her." He scratches his head and smiles, "It never really came up to discussion when I spoke to her."

At this, my ears prick up. "You spoke to her while I was gone? What did she say?"

"At first? Well, she was worried for the first couple of hours. When it turned into days, she got anxious. When it stretched into months, she got angry. Then furious, then she burned your suits and a couple of other things. She even went here demanding to know where you were. Even threatened to have me castrated if I didn't tell her."

I don't doubt the veracity of his statement. It sounds like Kathryn.

"She…" Blaine hesitates before I nod at him, prodding him to continue. "A few nights, she got messed up. Took more than usual, if you know what I mean."

"She fucked around, didn't she?"

Even though I had done the same thing, the idea of her with another man twists my gut.

His eyes searched mine, "Did you?"

I shrug. He gets it.

"Two of a kind, remember?"

I do. Oh so well.

"So how did it happen?" Blaine smirks, "Did you just drop by in her room and you ended up fucking, fighting, and declaring your undying love and devotion for each other in your respective twisted ways?"

How did it happen, exactly? I don't know. To me, it was just a long time coming I suppose. I had always felt something for her. But since Tuttle is the person who had been with Kathryn when I was gone, I suppose he deserved an answer.

I rub the back of my neck, working out the kinks of the tense muscles while I think.

"We were stuck with each other at the Hamptons. There was a storm and her room was flooded. The entire house hadn't been well maintained so she ended up having to sleep with me."

He begins to smile knowingly and I look at him.

"No," I add hastily. "Not like that. I was still with Annette. I was so sure that it was Annette I wanted, you know? I had been loyal to her. Kathryn and I didn't even get along when we went there. But the night progressed and we were both so bored and stuck with each other. At first, we argued a lot. You know how it was. Then I don't know. We took out a few bottles, had a lot to drink. We heard the storm outside and I think she didn't even want to fall asleep like that. It was too loud for her. We ended up talking the entire night."

He doesn't reply.

By now I indulge in this recollection.

"I don't even know what we talked about, but since we both had something to drink, we were honest. She told me she hated Annette, and I told her it was fine. Then I asked her if she hated me and she said-"

I pause. I can remember the tone of her voice. That drunk, vulnerable tone.

"She said never. She could never hate me, and that just opened the window to something. I can't tell for sure what it was, but things were different when we were there. I found myself growing more fascinated with her, and as the alcohol wore off, I began noticing things I never noticed before, even when I had been fixated on her."

"Like what?"

Tuttle, the queer romantic. He knows how it helps.

"Like that tone of her voice when she's telling the truth. Or the way she would fling an arm around a pillow when she was falling asleep. Or the way her body would slightly shift when the thunder rumbled outside. We talked for so long about anything and everything, even things I never told Annette. Then we ended up talking about us and the day we met, when we realized we were going to be related."

"I told her that when I saw her for the first time (we were fourteen or fifteen I think), I knew instinctively there was something different about her." I say quietly, "I told her that until Annette, it was the first time I wanted anyone that much."

"And what did our favorite brat say?"

I smile. It was a sad smile.

"Nothing. She remained silent and just stared at me. I remember exactly how beautiful she looked. She gave me that look and I forgot Annette. I kissed Kathryn and we ended up sleeping together. The following day I woke up and I found her outside, standing with her arms around herself while a bathrobe covered her body."

_"What happened last night, Sebastian? What was that?"_

"And her voice… it was cautious. Treading the waters."

_"I… I don't know."_

_She frowned and then a decisive look came over her, "We were drunk. It didn't mean anything."_

"I think she looked at me for confirmation, so I gave it to her. I didn't know how to deal with that, since I supposedly loved Annette. But we both knew it was a lie. In the span of a single night, something in our relationship shifted and we didn't know how to deal with it."

_"Okay. Yeah, we were." I answered curtly. "The storm's over. We can leave now."_

"We went out that night and attended a party, trying to pretend that nothing happened. That it was just a random fuck. I watched her flirt with rich preppies while I consoled myself with the fact that I had someone who waited for me to come back."

It didn't work. It never worked again.

"I think I began to get jealous especially when one of them seemed to claim Kathryn as his own, I don't know if she saw it, or what happened next but she saw me staring at her and…"

I shrug.

"This defiant look disappeared and she excused herself from her adoring crowd. We drove home in silence, afraid to talk or to even have contact with each other. It was too unpredictable. It was beyond our control."

I turned off the Jag and we both stepped inside the silent house, our shadows were the only things that greeted us. She stepped ahead of me, her smooth back attracting my attention. There was something unbelievably sexy about Kathryn's back, the graceful curve, the unmarred skin.

She was walking away. I was with Annette.

And then there was no Annette.

_"Wait." I said and she stopped._

_She turned around, "Why?"_

_"I don't know."_

_She looked at me with eyes so infinitely full of mysteries._

_"This stays here." She replied._

_I reached out for her._

_We drowned ourselves in carnal pleasure for the entire night._

"When we returned, it was something we both dismissed as an act out of boredom. It never lasted long, though. We ended up in each other's beds for the majority of nights. And it evolved from there. The jealousy began to show, and from the jealousy we realized it stemmed from something else. I lost whatever feelings I had for Annette. I was Kathryn's again, locked in this intense, taboo relationship. I wanted nothing else."

My phone rings and the sound knocks Blaine out of his stupor.

"Hello?"

"I got your message."

A pause.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I really am."

"It was my fault."

She sighs and I could almost feel her next to me.

"You and your complications," Amanda scolds lightly, "Why won't things ever work out for you?"

I have to chuckle at her comment, how fond I am of Amanda St. Clair is something I can never fully explain. She's not Kathryn and I don't love her the way I do the bewitching brunette, but I find that I need her company.

"I really have no idea." I smile and frown at Blaine's suspicious glance. "How've you been, you brat?"

"Missing my insane stepbrother madly and you? Have you gotten Kathryn's revenge for slapping her around?"

The very name sobers me up, "Was there ever a doubt that I wouldn't?"

"Good girl." She comments and I hear the sound of the phone moving against her ear. "Listen, Valmont. I have to go, but if you're still headed for Europe, I can meet you there. I'll be going in a week to visit a few friends. We could catch up."

"Is fucking still in the picture?"

This time, it's she who lets out a laugh. "Dear, dear stepbrother… So clever and witty. I wish I was the one who had you."

"I'll talk to you soon?"

"Of course."

I hang up and meet Blaine's inquisitive gaze head on.

"That's Amanda St. Clair, isn't it?"

"Kathryn mentioned her?"

"I distinctly remember the phrases 'little slut' and 'bitch' mentioned."

I grin, "She was jealous."

"Try livid."

This takes a while to process before I fully realize the implication.

"Then she still…?"

"You know, Valmont." Blaine sighs, "For an intelligent man, you can be quite moronic. However, despite the fact that she still… What's that word you never used but then suddenly got pussywhipped and began using quite often? Ah, yes… _loves_ you, I don't think it can be answered by that alone. The point is, you fucked her up. You broke her trust, and we both know it's not something she easily gives to people. Much like the mythical heart she owns, actually."

I run my hands through my thick hair, "I used to know when to go after her and when to back off. Now I don't. What do you think I should do, Tuttle?"

"Well, I don't know her like you do. I can't really answer that. But I will tell you this, Valmont. She really loved you. She was in pain for a while after you left. So yeah, be proud of that you stupid bastard. Congratulations, you really know how to fuck it up, don't you?"

"It's not like I wanted to leave!" I snap in self defense, tired of people antagonizing me. Did they think I went to Monte Carlo to screw my new stepsister?

He shrugs, "What else can I say? Get her back if you love her. The question is, I suppose, how? Should you rely on her mercy? Her love for you? Is this where the Big Gesture comes in, Valmont? Are you even ready for something like that? Because once you do this, you do realize that she's not going to give you another chance, don't you? You have to be really sure it's what you want."

I don't know. I honestly don't.

-0-0-0-

Ring.

Ring.

"Hello?"

I hear her soft breathing and remember when I felt the air escape her mouth and hit my skin.

"Kathryn."

Then there was nobody breathing at all. From both sides there was stillness.

Numerous phrases pop in my head.

_Come back._

That's the only thing that repeats itself over and over.

I don't say it.

I ask her to come back only in my mind. I tell her I'm sorry in my imagination. I nearly beg for her to give me another chance in my thoughts.

I only say the one thing that was the most honest of all.

A single word.

"Please."

Click.

The line went dead.

* * *

><p>AN: Apologies for the mishap in the last upload. I uploaded this one but the formatting was weird and I didn't have time to edit at the time. It's my birthday tomorrow so as a thank you gift to everyone I'm uploading another chapter (and maybe another one after that if I still have time to reedit!) Thanks to everyone who's still reading this! A shoutout to hopipolla! Apologies if I'm not able to reply to your PMs, but I wanted you to know I appreciate the messages!


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

"You, dear brother, are a fucking pussy."

"Such language from an educated young woman of your standing!" I scold.

"Oh, eat me."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Amanda rolls her eyes and pushes me away, oblivious to the ogling stares of the passers by as we lounged outside a quaint little café on the streets of Paris.

"Must you constantly do that?"

I feel her eyes on me as I light my cigarette, "Do what?"

She runs her fingertips along the silk white headband on her dark haired head, smirking at me. "Put up this adorable act of a guy trying to act all indifferent. We both know you're not, Sebastian. What's the point in trying to hide the fact that you're a goddamn wreck?"

I take a long, thoughtful drag as I inwardly curse her intellect. Why can't I find joy in the company of vapid women?

"Amanda, is this your way of telling me that you're obsessed about me? Or is it because you've decided to pursue a career in peer counseling? I must admit that right now, it isn't working."

Her beautifully structured face twists into a scowl as a hand picks up the cup of tea she ordered from the waiter who kept complimenting her earlier.

"You're so full of yourself, aren't you? Arrogant bastard."

"I do cherish these terms of endearment you use."

"Stop being so sarcastic!" She snaps, narrowing her blue eyes and glaring at the bald, obviously old man who paused to leer at her. "We have been here for nearly a month now, and you've turned into this coward who lives in a constant state of denial. Look at how you've disappointed me, Sebastian. I was under the impression that you were the kind of man who never ran away from his problems and yet here you are."

This time, it is me who scowls. "And you'd know this how, exactly? Maybe it's not denial. Maybe it's called moving on."

"Please," she scoffs in derision. "Don't treat me like one of your idiotic whores."

"I wouldn't dream of it,"

I take another puff from my cigarette.

"Besides, your breasts aren't big enough." I add as an afterthought, chuckling when I feel her palm slap against my arm as she retaliates.

She doesn't buy my sardonic attempt at steering the conversation from the topic of a strikingly gorgeous and particularly cruel brunette. It's one of the things I sometimes dislike about Amanda: she seems to know too much about me.

"How long do you think it'll take?" she asks quietly, glancing at her wristwatch while one leg rises to place itself on the other one. I see a man seated nearby glance at the pale, long legs that peeked from under her skirt while she moves. She sees it too and merely gives the man a closed mouth smile. Her beauty always attracts attention. She loves it that way. I know what she's referring to but I play dumb. After having just started my classes, I had been trying to keep myself busy in an attempt to fit into this new life.

Maybe to forget Kathryn as well, because expecting mercy from her is like expecting Satan to cry.

What? You were expecting some sort of melodramatic moment after our last encounter? That's what happens in the movies, right?

Well, we're an entirely different case.

I check my watch as well, mentally reminding myself of the paper I had yet to write for school. As my eyes travel to her face, I realize she's giving the man who had been watching her the same flirtatious, mischievous look she gives me (only with me, there is an obvious underlying affection because of our understanding).

"I have a date." I clear my throat, my eyes twinkling in amusement while she proceeds to give him another coy smile. He is done for. I know that look.

Women of power often have this gleam in their eyes, if you could see Kathryn—

Yes, yes, I know I'm supposed to be moving on but can I help it if Amanda and Kathryn belong in the same category? Perhaps it's why I'm quite fond of my stepsister. Perhaps I'm attracted to women of power, women who present the impression that no matter how many layers you peel off them, there will always be more to find.

Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. If you could see Kathryn, the way she moved and spoke, you would see what I'm talking about. These women, (particularly these two dark haired beautiful women I dote upon) can crush you with a single look, ruin your life with a few strategically placed words, break your heart even before the realization hits you that you had even surrendered it to them willingly, they can make you do things you would normally never do, and will make you give everything you have for them without allowing you to take from them.

As I've mentioned, they never give you anything. They can be selfish, and more often than not, they are.

Since they know of their advantages, they feel as though they are entitled to everything they want and nobody should ever have to stop them from doing so. They fight their own little wars everyday: perfection, wealth, and just something more. Because of this, they find stability in solitude. No enemies to stab you in the back if you don't let them in, right?

But sometimes there are exceptions. And they do give you their trust. They do allow you in. They allow you to stay the night in bed, they allow you to claim them as yours when in fact they would never even conceive of agreeing to such a thing in the past, they allow you to kiss them and touch them and know their secrets.

They give you their trust.

_"You have to swear that this stays here, okay? You can't tell anybody else, this would ruin me."_

_"I do, but you have to stop this. It's not right. You can't just make yourself sick all the time."_

_She stared at me before she sighed._

_"I'll try."_

They prove the fact that they're human.

_"Hey,"_

_"Yes?"_

_"How long do you have to be there?"_

_"Why?"_

_A long pause._

_"Kathryn?"_

_"Maybe I missed you." She said coyly._

_"Do you, really? How unlikely for you to be so affectionate, Kathryn. Have you been snorting something recently?"_

_"Oh, fuck you. Fine. I'm hanging up."_

_"Wait! Don't, God you can be such a brat."_

_"You can be such an asshole." She huffed, "See if I ever let you fuck me again."_

_"As if you could ever resist me," I smirked, leaning against my car as I watched Annette walk to her apartment. I paused to give her a half hearted wave as she turned and smiled at me. "Where are you now?"_

_"With Court…"_

_"What!"_

_"…(muffled moan) Oh yes right there…"_

_"Dammit, Kathryn!"_

_She gasped. "A little to the left… Ah…"_

_"Okay, this is not fucking funny anymore."_

_She started moaning._

_"Fine! I'm on my way back! Happy?"_

_The sexual sounds abruptly stopped, and I could hear her laughing._

_I smiled. I could never stay mad at her._

_"Good boy." She purred."Now hurry up."_

_"You're so demanding."_

_"Yet you love me for all my qualities."_

_"True." I opened the door of my car and got in. "Now tell the truth, sis. Could it be possible that my absence has affected you so?"_

_She laughed. It was a wonderful sound._

_"If you can get here in ten minutes, I might consider giving an honest answer."_

And if you're lucky (or brave or stupid or actually it depends on how you put it), they really let you in.

_"I love you."_

But you see, these women, my perfect nearly untouchable women, the price you pay is high for their trust. There is an even higher price for their love and loyalty. They take so much from you but when you have all three of those, the return is unlike anything you have ever experienced. They will make you feel so alive and real you will feel like if things don't work out, everything and everyone else will pale in comparison. Should you break any of these priceless winnings, I can assure you that based on experience, they will make you feel exactly what they have felt only of course a thousand times worse.

"A date?" Her blue eyes widen and then narrow into suspicious slits that oddly mirrored Kathryn's while she spots Nadia walking toward us. Tall, tanned skin, full and very soft breasts, a body structure that could rival Amanda's, and a face that would have been angelic if I hadn't had that same face on my crotch just yesterday. She was the perfect antithesis to my ex girlfriend.

"How sweet," her voice drips with venom. If I didn't know any better I'd swear she is on Kathryn's side. "Your very own walking beanpole. So which is she? Airhead model or naïve twit?"

"Airhead model."

She sighs, resembling an indulging mother to her erring child. Her eyes glance at her wristwatch again.

"To save us both time," she begins, glaring at Nadia again before turning to look at me. "I can tell you now what will happen in the next succeeding hours or even minutes… You will introduce us, I will be my usual polite self all the while detesting her even though she will appear to be nice. Then I will leave and go back to my hotel to meet with a few friends. You will exchange insinuations and flirt with each other, more her than you of course, and then you're going to take her back to your place and fuck her over and over again. Hard. Like you're trying to break her in two. Or like you're placing a different face on her. She'll love it, being the whore that she probably is. And then she'll fall asleep. Not in your arms. You'll never allow that. You will stand up, walk over to your window and light a cigarette. You'll be restless. You'll read a book. Write in your new journal. It won't go away, will it? Then and only then, my darling stepbrother, will you realize that I am correct."

"How presumptuous." I retort, "Do you think so weak of me?"

She doesn't listen, "I'm correct and you know it. You know, if I didn't hold such high regard for you, I would have allowed you to get fucked over like this. Now, as I was saying… You will realize that I am correct. You'll smoke a few more, stare out the window, back at what's-her-face, and then remember what I'm saying to you now. It's a stain that never really goes away, does it? You'll feel suffocated and finally," She winks, picking up her purse just as Nadia is a few feet away from us. "Finally, Sebastian, you will come up to my room. From there, I will proceed to tell you the very thing I have been trying to smack in your head for a while now. Whatever happens, whatever the outcome is and whether or not Kathryn decides to forgive you, it's not something you can just stop thinking about. You have to end it. Lay it all out, Valmont. Don't you think it's time you stopped trying to run?"

I hate the words that come out of my mouth next.

"It's not going to be easy."

"I never said it was."

"You don't know her like I do." I say quietly, "I've seen her at her element when she undertakes her revenge, Amanda. What she's capable of is so much more as compared to what she put me through last time. I don't care if it sounds cowardly, but I'm just tired of all of it, okay? I'm done with this game Kathryn and I have, we always pursue each other and it just never ends."

"Yet you're going to go, aren't you? Because a very small part of you thinks you can get through all that hate."

"I won't go. We had our chance. I fucked it up. She doesn't forgive anybody. It's something I've accepted a long time ago."

"You once said she told you she could never stay mad at you."

I stare at her, "Let's see, shall we? I fall in love with her and then proceed to think that she killed my girlfriend. I save her and make her think that nothing's going to change even after what happened to Annette, I sleep with her and assure her the same thing over and over again. The next day she wakes up and finds me gone. For more than a year. She goes to Monte Carlo and tries to get me back, and then I hit her, call her a murderer and a liar, only to realize that it wasn't her fault after all. I don't think that statement applies anymore, Amanda."

"I do look forward to the moment you show up at my hotel room, looking annoyed that I was right." She looks beautiful with her knowing smile and her little plaid skirt as she pinches my cheek teasingly. Her eyebrows furrow and a mocking low chuckle escapes her lips. "You're lucky to be so adorable, Sebastian." She smiled sweetly, "If I didn't respect you and Kathryn I would've grabbed you for myself. Now remember, I might have a guest in my room tonight so at least be polite and knock even though I've given you a key."

I shrug off her words and stand up, giving her a brotherly kiss on the cheek before introducing her to Nadia. She remains true to her word and graciously leaves us with a single shrewd look.

These women of power and their self assured looks. It annoys me, really. It's not like they're right all the time.

-0-0-0-

Five hours later—

I knock on her door, slightly sweaty and frustrated.

It opens. She stands there looking smug.

How I hate her.

She holds up a plane ticket with a pretty little half smile on her face.

"I should have punished you by making sure you weren't able to fly first class, but I decided against it. What can I say? I have a soft spot for you, darling brother."

I stare at her incredulously.

She wraps her arms around me and I hold her tight.

"Whatever happens." She whispers in my ear. "End this."

I nod. It feels nice to have Amanda around.

As she slowly lets me go, I feel her soft lips plant a kiss on my mouth. She's not seducing me. It's different this time.

"Annette's dead but you deserve to live, okay baby?" she finishes patiently, taking another look at my packed bags and grinning faintly to herself before she shuts the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As promised! Hope you liked this one! Also a shoutout to my friend oneamsoundstage! I actually deleted An Unlikely Story years ago, but she ended up saving it. She is the one responsible for its existence now, she sent me the files and I've been reediting to fix the format ever since.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

What an annoyingly beautiful day to match my anxious mood. I would have preferred for it to rain, at least it would have had the slightest semblance to my frame of mind. But then again, if you match my mood to the weather, I'm not quite sure what you'll get. I don't know what to feel right now. The only constant, sure thing that I do know I'm feeling is the restlessness that screams from inside me. This is what it's like to know that I will confront her yet again.

I don't know if I'm being brave or if I'm just a masochist.

The annoyingly perfectly bright sun glares at my slouched form as I duck my head amidst the throng of students who pass by. With my hands stuffed in my pocket and a cigarette wedged between my lips (I've been smoking a lot recently, it helps calm the nerves a bit), I realize I could pass as a student give or take the designer clothing and the arrogance.

I would-could have been one.

The passers by occasionally give me a second glance but I ignore them all, taking solace behind the dark tinted pair of sunglasses I've put on.

I wonder what would have happened if I had gone here.

A small smile tugs at my mouth just as I take the cigarette and flick the ashes carelessly, what indeed?

We would have lived together. Or at least very close to each other. We've done that since we were young, why stop now?

"So what do you think?" I would say as I lead her inside the spacious house already fully furnished. She would remain silent as she assesses the place, her green eyes darting from every crook and cranny before the very hints of a smile reaches her mouth.

"Who decided on the furniture?" she'd ask, looking up at me curiously.

"I did, of course." I would lead her to the bedroom, taking her hand (and she would let me hold on to it) and slipping my fingers through the spaces between hers. "But I did bear in mind the fact that you'd like to place your own so I kept it sparse. Just the bare necessities."

I would wrap my arms around her and place small kisses on the column of her neck, where I know she liked to be kissed and I would feel her slightly shake. The knowledge of making this beautiful powerful woman tremor before me would be a high like no other.

Kathryn would make that low purr and it would make me smile, knowing that we would be free from the constraints of society now that our parents were divorced.

"Bare necessities…" she'd murmur, her fingernails scratching at my back teasingly. "Like the bed?"

"Mhmm…"

"Just the bed…?"

Then we'd kiss and she would start unbuttoning my pants.

"I can live with that."

"But where will we study?" she'd ask innocently, pulling me closer as soon as her back hits the mattress.

"On the bed of course…"

"Where will we eat?"

"Well, that won't be a problem for you since you don't exactly eat." I'd quip and she would glare at me before smacking my chest.

"Sebastian!"

"Once again please, only less annoyance and more moans."

"Ah…"

I'd be careful to nibble and kiss every sensitive part of her body as she shifts from side to side, her petite body moving along with her sighs. There will never be anything better than this, nobody will ever be better than her.

"You know… Oh… You can… Right there… Yes… be… such… a… a…"

"A what?"

Her welcoming heat would envelope me and she would place her hands at the back of my neck to sit up.

She'd always liked it when she sat on my lap.

"Prick…" she would pant in my ear, hugging me close to her so that I would feel her breasts on my chest and her sweat would mingle with mine.

(Kathryn and I… We'd be perfect. Golden. Nobody will be able to live up to us.)

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket and I see Blaine's face flashing on my screen.

"You're sure about this?" Tuttle asks seriously.

"No." I reply, taking another drag. "Did you get to talk to her?"

He tells me her location and I nod, ending the call briskly. Now the nerves have multiplied into a thousand electric shocks. At this rate I'd have to smoke an entire carton of cigarettes.

It's easy to maneuver my way around the campus since we had gone here before.

_"Will you at least pay attention to what he's saying?" she hissed, frowning slightly as I whispered another phrase filled with sexual innuendos in her ear._

_She was referring to our 'tour guide', who was really nonexistent pretty much for me since we've met. I honestly didn't give a fuck about it since Kathryn just dragged me along. Or, more accurately, used an unfair advantage as a means of persuasion. She knew I would say yes to just about anything when we were having sex._

_"Nope." I muttered, grinning disarmingly at a sorority girl who gave me a flirtatious wave._

_Kathryn saw the exchange and glared at the blonde before narrowing her eyes at me._

_"What?" I said in defense, "I was only being friendly."_

_"You've extended your 'friendship' plenty, Valmont." She replied icily, wrenching her arm away when I tried to touch her. "I don't care for you ogling these whores. It's disrespectful to me. If you'd like to openly flirt with them, have the courtesy to at least tell me so I can do the same or just wait until I'm not here."_

_I smiled at all the ice that suddenly covered her, knowing she was jealous._

_"How sweet," I said quietly in her ear, slipping an arm around her waist before she had the chance to stop me. "My baby's jealous."_

_Her face contorted in a scowl, "If you call me your baby one more time I'll make sure you won't get any for an entire year."_

_I liked teasing her._

_"My baby's so hot when she's jealous…"_

_She shoved me away, "Stop patronizing me!"_

_"Why not? It's so fun getting you worked up like this…"_

_"Fun for you, you arrogant shit."_

_"God, I love it when you talk so dirty." I rubbed my jaw against her cheek, uncaring if the entire campus deplored public displays of (lust? Love?) affection. We have hidden long enough._

_"Yes, well this dirty talking mouth will not be available for you if you don't stop."_

_"Aww… My baby's mad now…"_

_She winced in disgust, "Valmont, stop that!"_

_I grab her and force her to stop walking. After motioning for our guide to leave, I put on my best repentant expression but it didn't seem to work. Now she was really pissed off._

_"It's not too late to take back the offer we had made on the apartment." She told me with narrowed eyes. "If you insist on being so immature, I—"_

_She stopped talking when I leaned in close to her ear._

_"You know," I began. "I don't think you have any idea whatsoever how beautiful you are when you're all angry like this… You'd like to know why I'm acting the way I do? It's to get rid of that moron tour guide and persuade you to come back to our place. Because however lacking it may be of furnishings, I would like to ravish you until we're both exhausted."_

_I heard her breathing quicken and I felt the triumph of victory. She had that look in her eyes now, and I knew that at that moment the tour was over._

It's easy to find her. She has monopoly of the couch and a steaming cup of coffee on the table. For a moment I stop walking and just take her in, for an entire month I haven't seen her. Following that pitiful phone call, I suppose I wish I could say I've forgotten her voice but it's not something I could ever lose memory of.

Her face doesn't look peaceful, but it doesn't look troubled either. Every so often she would avert her eyes from her book (oh, how she's changed so much) and take a sip. I wonder if it's laced with alcohol. It would be more like her if it were. From this vantage point she looks nearly… normal. She would have even blended in with the others had it not been for her obviously superior beauty and commanding personality.

Deep breaths now. This is where it all ends.

She remains absorbed in her studying while I dispose of the cigarette and try to calm myself. I am lucky to be part of the loud, boisterous group that enters the café because it shields me from her gaze. As I come closer to the long curtain of brown hair and the steaming cup of coffee (it is a sight that I would have found welcoming had I opted to go with her over a year ago), I realize I'm at a loss for words.

"Is this seat taken?" I clear my throat and immediately her entire body stiffens at the familiarity of my voice.

Slowly she closes her book and turns around, our eyes meet and she doesn't seem all that surprised to see me. Once again she looks like she had expected all of this. She's lucky to know what to expect from me. I wish I could say the same thing about her.

"Back for more, I see." She answers, motioning for me to sit down.

"If you've got more to give, Kathryn, then yes. I suppose I am. Call it bravery. Call it stupidity. I don't even know which anymore. I'm merely trying to exhaust your anger so we can—"

"What?" she interrupts, taking another sip of her drink. It's steaming still, does her mouth feel the scalding liquid burn her or has she grown even resistant to it just like she seems to have grown resistant against me?

"So we can get back together, Valmont?" she asks while she stares at me. Damn her walls. I can't see through them now. "How nice of you to have grown some form of idealism during our time apart."

I sigh, "It wasn't what I was going to say."

"You liar."

I don't reply and we slip back into silence. After a long time of not hearing from her, I find that I deplore the stillness now. It isn't the kind that brings peace. It's the kind that one experiences before something bad happens.

I take out another stick from my pocket and she watches me light it. I feel her eyes and their inquisitive gaze and I can't take the tension.

She breaks it surprisingly.

"Five."

"Excuse me?"

She holds my gaze, "I smoked five cigarettes successively for the first ten minutes I realized you were gone."

I smile sadly, "I drank an entire bottle of vodka during my first night in Monte Carlo."

"You were miserable?"

I nod.

"I wonder how you could be so miserable when you have a bottle of vodka in one hand and your new stepsister on your bed."

The ice was so cold.

"Amanda and I… We're not…"

"Do not lie to me again. You must remember that I can always tell when you're lying. Well," she laughs at herself with a sound that was anything but amused. "At least, I could almost always tell it. That night before you left, my emotions blinded my judgment. I can assure you that I don't intend to let it happen again."

"We're not together. Not like we were, Kathryn."

"Do you wish to disarm me with your heartfelt sentiment, or are you just trying to fuck me so you could leave again?"

"Neither."

She watches me again before holding out a hand. "Can I have a drag?"

I feel her fingers brush against mine as she takes it from me. As she wraps her lips around the cigarette and inhales, my eyes never leave hers.

"Thanks." She answers, blowing the smoke through her pursed mouth.

"How've you been?"

I crave for her companionship.

She shrugs, closing her book. "I'm on the student council. My professors kiss the ground I walk on. Everybody loves me."

"You intend to keep it that way." I add, wondering if she remembered the day she said that. She does. I see her smirk. I want to make it disappear by kissing her. She's making me see that she's moved on.

"What about you?"

And I tell her about my school, about the places I've traveled to and the people I've met. She listens attentively, and for a moment I feel like we were back in high school when things weren't complicated and emotions hadn't blurred our rationalities.

I take it all in, ingest, breathe, and watch as much as I can. The slight tilt of her head, the way she would allow me a small smile when I describe the humorous moments of my life, and the way her hand would occasionally brush back her now lighter brown hair. I find that these small movements, these idiosyncrasies, were all part of the things I've hungered for.

Despite the hatred that had gathered between us, we were still, after all the only ones who could ever keep up with each other.

"Are you happy here?" I ask suddenly while I offer her a cigarette.

Her eyes got glazed over while she contemplated, "Happiness is a fickle thing." She answers quietly, "Much like love I suppose. I have no use for neither. There's knowing that you have everything, and then there's feeling like you have nothing more you could ever want. The latter…" she pauses and I almost lean forward (almost beg for her to stop and just let me in again because this time I won't ever hit her or hurt her)

"While it may provide…More… The feeling tends to go away, and I would just rather stick with knowing. If I believe it long enough I'll eventually feel it too. What I've learned from all this, Sebastian, is that there is no love. Not with us. For us, it was an extended form of lust and passion. We were never 'in love', it was all an illusion. We got a kick out of it, that's all. But that's all over now and make no mistake, I am furious at you. I always will be, but in retrospect you've taught me something I should have always known. This 'love' we both claimed to have, when stripped down to its raw form, is just another war and you've won. You've made me a casualty."

"I've won?" I ask, "Nobody won, Kathryn. We both lost."

She shakes her head and I see her take out of crucifix to play with it.

"Suppose I agree to that, suppose I agree that we both suffered. Isn't that something we should take as a warning? Isn't that an indication that we were never supposed to go through with all of this in the first place?"

"I don't believe in that." How can she think like this?

"Then assume that I do empathize with your plight and believe me, I've tried to understand what went on inside that head of yours. Assume that I acknowledge what you've gone through when you made your choice, assume that I know you've been wretched during your stay in Monte Carlo and that you've fucked and drank your way into forgetting. Assume all of these, Sebastian, but have you ever stopped to think that you were being selfish? Have you ever empathized with me? Have you ever considered the thoughts that ran through my head upon realizing your closet was empty and that nobody could tell me where you were?"

I hang my head in shame.

"Have you ever thought of what I had done? The rage I felt?"

"Or what about when you called me a murderer and a liar? Or when you backhanded me? I've never asked you how that felt, hitting me like that. Did it make you feel powerful? Did it make you feel like you've avenged Annette's death by hitting the accused killer? Better yet, what would you have done if the roles were reversed and you had saved her instead of me? Would you have accused her of murder or would you have spent your nights with her on your bed as you comforted her from the horrible tragedy? Would you have left her?"

I grip my head in my hands, feeling like she was torturing me.

"Kathryn, please stop."

"Stop?" she responds, taking another drink. "I haven't even begun. Mark my words, Valmont. I have not even begun to hurt you."

I take it all. Her words are sharp stones hurled against me.

"You claimed to have loved me, yet how is it possible that you never even considered what I'd felt? Is that love for you, Sebastian? Or was that love confined to the bounds of sex?"

I cringe. It hurts. She knows it.

"No." I say quietly, my jaw tightening. "It was all true. It was real, you said it yourself. We weren't a lie."

"I made a mistake in saying that. Just like I made a mistake when I loved you."

"You don't mean that."

_"Oh, but you were one of my fucking conquests."_

_"You don't mean that."_

_"But you are. You were the greatest conquest, Kathryn. You were my best accomplishment among all of them, even Annette. When we made that bet I told you that she would be my greatest victory but I was wrong. You are. When I finally fucked you that night, I loved making you scream... I loved taking down the Ice Bitch a notch down or two... Especially when I made you beg..."_

_"It was fun for a while, baby. Think about it, I got some from the virgin and then I'd get some from you. Twice the fun, wouldn't you say?"_

_"Of course, there's no denying the fact that you were so much better in the sack than Annette was… That's why I kept you around. You think I'm your toy? That I'm just someone you screwed around with? Baby, you couldn't be more wrong. You're my toy. You're my best fuck toy, Kat. It amused me to make you swallow your words… You didn't believe in love and yet there you were, making plans for our future."_

"Oh, Valmont. I do." She glances at her watch and stands up, gathering her things. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get to class."

I grab her arm as an idea hits me, "Please, Kathryn."

"I've reduced you to begging now. How nice. If I throw my pen, will you fetch it for me next?"

I stand up, "Stop being so cruel!"

"Would you rather I jumped you and kissed you? Would you rather we ended up like some fucking movie wherein everybody gets a happy ending?" she shoves me away, ignoring the curious stares of the onlookers. She is trying very hard to maintain her composure but I can tell that she wants to hit me again.

"Because if you do, then it really convinces me that you've saved the wrong girl. I don't get it, really. Is it so difficult to distinguish a blonde from a brunette?"

"Come with me."

My reply surprises her. I can tell she wasn't prepared for that.

"Why should I?"

-0-0-0-

The moment she sees our would have been place, I see her small fists clench. She has remained sullen throughout the entire trip while I desperately tried to think up of things to say to at least thaw her out a bit.

When I open the door for her, she gets out and stomps inside. Her hair flies from behind her and I wish what had happened the night we first had sex would happen again, wherein our shadows would greet us and she would stop when I asked her to stop. I knew hoping for such a thing is impossible, not when she was this furious at me.

The only thing that did greet us was utter emptiness. It was like we had gone inside ourselves.

As I shut the door behind me, she stops walking.

This is our battleground. The war to end all wars.

"What more should I say?" she snaps, "What would you like to hear? Will it give you some twisted sense of satisfaction when you hear that I've shed tears for you? Don't worry, I've learned from my mistake. I will never let you hurt me again."

I recoil at her bitterness, "Jesus, Kathryn. What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?"

Her laughter echoes through the place we should have lived together in. It grates my ears and scrapes me raw.

"You happened to me, Valmont."

Then she walks briskly toward me and we are standing so close yet again. I see her rage intensifying but I never back down, if this is what she wants, then I will give it to her.

"What do you want from me?" she asks, backing me against the wall. "Would you like to fuck me now? Is this what you came here for?"

I make a feeble attempt to stop her but she slaps me. Her hands make quick work in unbuttoning my pants and she angrily pulls my belt from its loops to throw it over her shoulder. The metal buckle thuds against the floor and I feel a sense of panic.

Now I've gotten her started.

She starts kissing me, her mouth soft as always yet the nature of the kiss was anything but affectionate. I know I will bruise the next day. As she places her hands on my shirt and pulls it apart, she swallows and relishes my scream when I feel her teeth clamp down on my lower lip. We share my blood. She laps it up, enjoying my pain.

"This is it, isn't it?" she whispers harshly, taking off her panties. "It's what you want. Dirty, raw, unadulterated fucking. It's the only thing you ever really wanted from me."

"You're wrong!" I try so hard to pull her away from me. My lip is bleeding and yet somehow her fury makes her stronger than I am. She latches on to me tightly, one hand stroking my traitorous erection. I try not to feel physical pleasure, but I can't. Even in her anger she manages to arouse me. It's not a good feeling this time. This time, it's coupled with disgust at myself. "Kathryn, please…"

"Please, please, please…" she mocks, her fingernails digging on my bare skin. "You know it's what you want. That's why you brought me here."

She pushes me suddenly and I find myself crashing down. Pain immediately shoots up my spine and her body is on top of mine. It seems like another person has taken over her and I find myself staring at this hateful stranger in horror. But I know that it's still her, that this is more than a year's worth of compartmentalized rage.

"Don't do this…" I nearly plead, trying to grip her wrist while she continues to stroke me in rough movements. "Hurt me. Slap me. Hit me. Just… Just not this."

"But it's what you want," she replies cruelly, "this is how it feels like to love someone like me. You made the wrong choice."

Without warning, I am pushing inside of her. Every part of me screams at how wrong this all was, she was too dry that it had to hurt more for her than it did for me. Nevertheless, she continues riding me, never dispelling any moan or sound. I try to do the same thing, but every so often a groan escapes me. Up and down, she increases the tempo and I know that she will be sore afterwards. I hear her grunt from the pain and yet she continues looking at me as the sounds of skin slapping skin continues.

The longer it lasted, the angrier she got.

"I HATE YOU!" she screams as she went faster, slapping every part she could hit. "I WISH YOU WERE THE ONE WHO HAD DIED!"

I felt something trickling from her and when I look down, I am hit with terror to realize that she had started bleeding from the roughness of our coupling. It's nearly unbearable for her now, but she still continues with it.

"This is what you want! You want to be inside of me, to watch me come apart!" she continues, scratching me on the face deeply. "I'VE GIVEN YOU THAT! I'VE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING, YOU BASTARD!"

This is too painful to be pleasure.

I can take her punches and her words, I can last for hours with her nails clawing at me, but I can't handle the pain on her face when she continues fucking me. As her arms gesticulate wildly, I seize the opportunity and hug her tightly. I use my strength and she starts fighting against me, arms flailing and legs kicking madly.

"STOP! LET ME GO!" her voice screams itself hoarse in my ear but I don't let go. I don't intend to.

I am at war with myself more than I am with her. We are both covered in sweat, her clothes are rumpled and I am filled with scratches. As I hold her to me, I start stroking her hair just how she liked it.

Her breathing is heavy.

I don't know what I tell her because at that instant I couldn't find anything to say, but I know that words do come out of my mouth. I tell her of that night at the Hamptons, of that day when I told her that I love her and what it felt like she said it back, I tell her that I'm sorry, that she has no idea how much… How much of everything I am.

Slowly, so very slowly she stops hitting me. Her legs remain motionless and her entire body shakes through the tremors of this battle we have. As her arms slowly wrap around my neck, it was only then that I realize she is quietly sobbing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the delay, things have been busy! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

_"Fuck you, Valmont. I'm not putting up with your fucking mood swings." She narrowed her eyes before sighing, her beautiful face falling._

_The expression caught my interest and tugged at my heart. Regardless of whether or not I see Annette nearly all the time in my head, I can't deny the very fact that I love Kathryn. I do. I really do._

_But it's just too much._

_I approached her and caught her face in my hands, kissing her delicious mouth._

_"I love you so much." I said quietly, "Don't forget that."_

_"We're going to be okay." She answered, looking at me with such intensity as though she knew what was going through my mind and what I planned to do._

_I did what I had to do. I lied to her again._

_"Yes." I said, kissing her like tomorrow would never arrive. "We're going to be okay."_

_She continued looking at me, never wavering, never blinking. I saw the dark circles underneath her eyes, has she lost slept as much as I have? I didn't want her to. I didn't want her to be this restless. This feeling of guilt taints whatever affection I had for my stepsister. Taboo, yes. Wrong? Immoral? What will this scandal do to the Merteuil-Valmont name?_

_"In the past I could always tell if you were toying with me." She said quietly, "Now I can't. That's dangerous, Sebastian. I don't like it when I can't read you."_

_"You don't have to learn how to read me. I won't lie to you."_

_Pale, petite Kathryn. Beautiful in her many extravagant layers. Beloved because of her fine reputation and charming smile. Loved because of who she really was. Evil? Not really. Cruel? Yes. Manipulative? Of course. Perfect? Technically no, but if you were to ask me, I would've answered otherwise._

_For a moment there she looked like she knew what I was thinking, only to have that almost suspicious expression fade away. She placed her hands on the back of my neck as she pulled me to the bed._

_"You shouldn't." she murmured, tracing my features with her fingers. "Because sooner or later I will find out if you were lying, If you mean to hurt me in any way I will hate you. Don't make me hate you, Sebastian."_

_"I thought you never could?"_

_She smiled. Sadly? Beautifully? Ominously? I didn't know. I didn't know because all I could think about was getting away. For once, being with her constricted me._

_"Yes, but that can be changed. Don't make me change that, because when I hate you, I will hurt you. I will hurt you more than I've ever hurt anybody else. You're aware of that, aren't you?"_

_I nodded._

I don't know how long we remain seated there, but somehow I manage to pull myself out of her and wince as she starts curling her fingers around the cloth of my shirt. It was as if we were locked inside a box wherein time and the normal rules of living did not apply, but the surrealism of the entire situation was based wholly on the weeping Kathryn I held in my arms. It was like everything froze and then withered away, whatever other problems I may have had academically (because I have yet to finish that paper) or otherwise shrank and became instantly insignificant.

I felt like I was having an out of body experience.

What will I say about Kathryn at that instant?

She felt like liquid heat in my arms, a sobbing, perfect molten mass of perspiring pale skin, unkempt silky brown hair, shaking thin shoulders and a heaving chest as she hiccupped against me in an obvious effort to stop her sudden flow of tears.

"Hate you." I hear her mutter, arms still tight around my neck when my patting on her back stopped being awkward and started being natural again, "Fucking hate you."

At first I thought she was pressing herself close to me because she miraculously decided to be affectionate all of a sudden but what I soon realized is that the reason why she was doing so was because she was using the position to rub her eyes and try to erase the blatant proof that I had gotten her to weep before me.

"It's okay… Shh…"

She holds on. Longer. Tighter. I don't mind. I won't ever mind if it's Kathryn.

I let her cry, alternating between 'It's okay' and 'Shh' and 'I'm here'. The initial shock of her crying in front of me is slowly starting to wear off, and now I feel grateful more than anything that I am getting to even be this close to her again. I thought that I had severely fucked it up, but then again, the thing about Kathryn is that sometimes she tends to surprise even me.

"You were gone… Woke up… Not there... Looked for you!"

She's hiccupping, trying to catch her breath. Trying to exhaust her emotions so she won't have any tears left to accidentally shed. "Hated you so much… Broke my trust… Wanted to… Wanted to kill you."

I smile through my sadness, even in this state of grief she still manages to threaten me. We sat there, half naked. Perspiring. Not perfectly fixed like we both respectively were at all times. Undone.

She started beating my back with her fists again, not really hard blows, but the blunt feeling of her bones against me made me wince.

"Please let me go." Her voice spoke in a clear but subdued tone, "Please. I'm not letting you do this to me again."

My lips brush against her temple as I continue soothing her. By now it feels like (from the lack of shuddering and shaking) she has indeed exhausted her resources for tears. I don't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I'm not going to. I promise okay, Kathryn? Come here, come back I won't—"

"You won't leave me." She pushes me away and it is only that I see how red her eyes were. Clumps of brown hair stuck to her face, and her cheeks were slightly red. "Of course you won't. I'm not letting you in anymore. This will be the last time."

Oh, God. I'm losing her again. She's regaining her composure now, and little by little the temperature in her gaze drops. It's her automated self protective response.

Shutting everything down. It's difficult to get past that. When I try to reach for her, she holds up a hand. Open hand. I see her palm. Five fingers that my own hand slipped between the spaces of. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She starts getting up, for a few steps she is shaky. Then the longer she walks, the fluently she begins to move again. It is scaring me now. As she retrieves her underwear and slips back into it, her transition is almost complete. Her appearance is still in disarray, but the vulnerability in her voice and the tremors of her body are all gone. It was as if I had imagined the whole thing.

"Kathryn, please don't leave. I lo—"

"Don't."

Her voice is no longer cracking. Now she is assured of herself again. Self assured, confident Kathryn. She's back. The Ice Bitch.

Her look is spiteful as her hands smooth down her outfit. I have to remind myself that I had gotten through earlier, I just have to notice her puffy red eyes and I should be emboldened.

"Don't even say that." She barks harshly, "You have no right to say that to me."

"It's true. I love—"

"I DON'T NEED TO BE LOVED!" Her voice echoes throughout the empty vicinity as she screams at me. "NOT BY YOU! I NEED TO BE LEFT ALONE!"

I stop talking. What kind of argument would win her over? Would I simply have to wait for her to break again? How else can I even do that? By now she has become immune to my methods. I find that with Kathryn, whenever something or someone weakens her, she always, always makes sure it is the last time.

"I only lied to you because I didn't want you to get hurt."

"How sweet of you." Her lips curl into a condescending smile, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or is it because you were too chickenshit to ask me? Was it really to save me from guilt or to spare yourself from hearing that I did in fact off your miserable twit of a girlfriend? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I sliced her open and lapped up the blood? That's what you expected from me, the cruel ice cold slut of a stepsister. That's why you just kept quiet. How stupid do you think I am, Sebastian?"

Princess of red rimmed eyes and a steadily freezing heart. Please come back. Please.

"You're right okay? You're right!" I yell back, ignoring the sudden loud beating of my heart. "I did consider the fact that you killed her! I did think you were a murderer and a liar! You want to know why? Because you're a vindictive—"

"What?" she interrupts hotly, gritting her teeth. "What term of endearment would you like to use on me this time? Slut? Whore? Because I was never any of those when I was with you! I've never cheated on you! I've never slept with anyone else when we were together whereas you! I allowed you to fuck the virgin! Did you hear anything from me? NO!"

"You knew I was planning to break up with her!"

She scoffs. Another shake of her head. She further attempts to fix herself. Her fingers comb her brown hair. Repair. Damage control. Rectify the imperfection I'd caused to appear.

"You knew it was necessary, right?" I reply in an almost pleading tone. Beg. Beg. She's reduced me to pleading. Begging. "I didn't-I didn't want to be with her anymore."

"You _made love_ to her." She snarls, "And you picked fights with me just because I happened to go out with an old boyfriend. Your jealousy is irrational and unfair. _You_ were unfair. You call me a whore, a slut who opens her legs to anybody with the right amount of money. I am none of those. I am superior to all the women you've ever bedded and don't you forget that. You bastard. Do you honestly think it would be so easy to gain my trust again? Do you think that after you've gotten me to cry before you, we would share a _romantic_ moment?"

I don't reply. Once again she has gotten me to succumb to silence.

"I told you I haven't even begun to hurt you. Do you think that shedding a few angry tears would make it go away?"

"No."

The house is hollow and so are we.

"But it's a start." I say quietly.

Her mouth purses. I remember when I used to get to kiss her.

"No, it isn't. I told you not to make me hate you, that my own rules could be broken. Now I do. I loathe you. Despise you. I've thought about hurting you. Punishing you in every way possible."

"Isn't this enough?"

"Never. It'll never be enough for what you made me feel."

"You talk as though you're the only victim here!" I retort, having enough of her attitude. "What about me? Where is your so called empathy, Kathryn?"

"Forgive me if I don't feel sorry for you while you fucked your stepsister!"

"Not for that! Not empathy for that!" I grab her arm, pulling her close to me so she wouldn't get a chance to walk away. "For this! For not being able to forget you! Damn you and your cruelty! Damn your lack of forgiveness!"

I whisper the last part. Her eyes widen and for a moment she looks confused. Hesitant. Her mouth drops open slightly. Eyes still wide and jade hued, still beautiful despite the remnants of her tears.

"How do you expect me to forgive you after what you've done to me? After you've left and blamed me for a choice you've made? After you've physically hurt me? Do you know that nobody would ever have come close to doing that? But you… I let you in. You abused it."

"Doesn't it tire you?"

Again, I've surprised her. This is a never ending game of wits and power between Kathryn and me. She tries to break free from me but I am adamant in keeping her. In more ways than one.

"What does?"

"Hating. Don't you ever just want to let it go?"

"Not with you."

"Why?"

"Don't you ever get tired?" she asks instead, avoiding my question easily. Deflect. Reflect. Turn the mirror around. This is our game. Our dance of coy smiles and flippant remarks. The award goes to the most indifferent.

"Of what?"

"Pursuing me. You know I'll only hurt you."

"I do get tired."

Another tug. Another pull. Pull push. I never let go.

"So stop."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because it's _you_. I can't stop, don't you see that? I did try to just let it go, to move on. I can't. It's you. You don't understand it, do you? I can't do what you've done. I can't move on. I've tried, Kathryn. But I can't. I can't forget it. I can't… I can't forget-I-"

Incoherent. Brilliant, suave Sebastian Valmont at a loss for words. You would too if you were subjected under her gaze.

"I can't forget us. How we were together. How I was when we weren't."

She stops moving. Her entire body stays completely still for a few seconds I thought she had somehow been wrapped in ice and frozen without my knowledge.

There it is. My cards have been laid down the table. Bare. I've made my move. I'm leaving it up to her. Your move, baby. Make it count. Make it real.

Her mouth opens and closes. Her eyes cloud with indecision. Everything has been placed on her shoulders and now she doesn't know how to deal with the power.

I slowly let her go. My fingers loosen from gripping her arm and she looks down where our limbs were joined without saying a word.

"It's Blaine's birthday a week from now." I tell her quietly, "He'll be having a party at his house. I'll… I'll be there. I-I uh… I'm leaving tonight. I've said all I could say, Kathryn. I'm leaving it entirely up to you. If I see you there, then I'll take it as an indication of… something. (I have never been horrible at words yet now I find that I am a bumbling freak) If not… It's fine. I guess I'll understand. I'll hate you for it, but I won't be angry for too long. I'll just miss you too much to hold a grudge."

On the drive back to her school, we both remain silent. We've said all we could say. Done what we could. In the end, doesn't it always come down to that? We throw our words out there in the hopes that it will be heard and heeded. I've hurled it across the room. Across the air. Into her thoughts. Come back. Please come back to me. Now comes the anxiety of waiting.

We've exhausted our emotions. It had drained us both too much. But I understood the reason why our eyes looked dull the moment we left that house. I understood why she kept her neck craned to one side, trying to remain oblivious while she stared far off. The distance will separate us soon, but for how long?

Again, I've left it up to her. Here is her precious control.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you enjoyed, folks! Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

I thought about Annette while I was on the plane back to New York. If you've been keeping up with me and my story (however pitiful, frustrating, and angst ridden it must be), then I would first and foremost like to thank you for listening. I know that it hasn't been one of the happiest stories and that one would often almost always opt for the ones wherein it is filled with hope and lovestruck smiles so as to escape their own seemingly hopeless and dull realities.

Anyway, as I sit here just thinking about what to write next in my new journal (For yes, I have purchased a new one right after Kathryn ripped the old one, my dearest and most cherished friend, into bits and pieces of scrawl filled confetti), I can't help but think of her. It's been a while since I thought of Annette.

I have this memory of Annette and how we were as a couple. It was before Kathryn and I went to the Hamptons together and right after I ran after Annette at the train station. Specifically the few months I allowed myself the belief that I was a different man when I was with her. More specifically, it was during the time when I was actually happy with Annette Hargrove and Kathryn was merely a speck in my annoyingly lightheaded, thoughts-of-a-bright-tomorrow-with-the-pure-and-innocent-blonde universe.

Does it nauseate you? It doesn't nauseate me. Despite the ordeal Annette has put us through, I find that I remember my moments with her only with utter fondness.

In this memory I am at the beach with Annette, not really walking hand in hand or any of that drivel. We had flown to Sta. Monica for the weekend and I rented a house directly near the beach. I think it was for her birthday, and I can still remember how she had this big smile on her face when I informed her of where we were going.

My memory doesn't really hold that much meaning. It was just that night of being able to laugh and be able to say whatever I wanted to say without being mocked or answered back sarcastically. Despite everything that's happened, I'm not going to change it. I loved Annette. She was disturbed, and there were parts about her life that I never had any clue about, but there were other parts, the parts when we were happy, when she looked straight at me that night when we were in bed for the first time, or when she wrapped her arms around my waist while we were at the beach, and just… her willingness to be seen with me. The freedom. That's what I loved about us. With Annette, it was never complicated.

So anyway, as I sit here bored out of my mind and more contemplative than I have been recently, I can't help but also think about all the things Kathryn said during our many fights. What gets me is that I can't forget the exact expression on her face when she lost her apathy toward me. I can't forget how her hands shook or how her eyes became so fierce and determined to push me away.

_"What would you have done if the roles were reversed and you had saved her instead of me? Would you have accused her of murder or would you have spent your nights with her on your bed as you comforted her from the horrible tragedy? Would you have left her?"_

What would I have done? The road down to the what-ifs makes my head ache. I try it then, to imagine what my life would have been like if I had carried Annette to my car.

I try to imagine Kathryn dead.

I imagine her lifeless body covered by a thin white sheet; I imagine her face pale and the dried crusted blood caking her upper lip. I imagine her chest so still and her nostrils devoid of any passing air. I imagine hearing the words "I'm sorry, Mr. Valmont. We did everything we could." from the physician who attended to Kathryn.

Then I think about it. About how Annette would open her eyes and she would cry and cry, beg for my forgiveness, for making me do what I'd done. Would I really feel justified that I had saved who seemed to be the victim in my twisted game with Kathryn? Would I really get over it after a few months?

The answer is simple.

No.

Never.

How do you ever get over losing someone you can never imagine life without?

Thinking about her body as a corpse, thinking about Kathryn never waking up and never being able to smirk or tease or just breathe is inconceivable. Could I have made a different choice that night? Yes. But would I have chosen differently? No. I'm sorry, Annette. I would still have chosen her. Amanda once said I wasn't her sinner to save, but Kathryn is. She's my sinner to save, Annette. I'm sorry you never understood that.

Right now the pilot is announcing that we have just arrived. Everybody else is getting their bags, all going on with their busy lives. The roads to their lives have been set. Not mine. There's a businessman ahead of me just a few rows. His hair is thinning; he looks like he hasn't gotten any sleep. He carries a leather briefcase as he glances at his watch. Tap. Tap. Tap. His lips turn up impatiently. He has places to be. People to see.

So do I.

-0-0-0-

I've had-

One?

Two?

Five?

Six drinks?

I've lost count.

And the cigarettes?

Five. Exactly five burned through. Smoked one after the other. My lungs are probably screaming from the abuse. It was only fitting, I suppose. Didn't Kathryn say that she smoked five successively when she realized I was gone? Well, now here I am. Waiting. One knee bouncing up and down in my anxiety, the festive mood of Blaine's party was lost on my sullen mood.

How did I think this would end, really? Was I a fool to ever think that she would appear and walk past that door with that knowing smirk on her face? Was I a fool to have had my bags packed for my three day stay in New York two days before my actual flight when in the past I usually hurried at the last minute? Was it moronic of me to have bought her something from Paris, (a dress which she would probably love) because I was under the assumption that she'd be there?

I've been here even before the party got started. I stupidly hurried and dumped all my bags into my old house and nearly sprinted to my rented car with that ever present metal music playing heartbeat of mine and an even more moronic smile on my face.

I just… I guess I thought that for once she'd get over that ridiculously large pride of hers. I have, haven't I? I've begged, I've followed her, I've called, I've done absolutely what I could think of. That may not be considered as The Big Gesture, but those still were gestures to be minded.

Three hours had passed. I've been pacing around Blaine's place, bowing out gracefully when I was pulled into a room by two hot blondes who obviously had other naughty things in mind to do. I find that I'm not fond of blondes. In the past, I would have indulged in them but I've had enough of that. I've had enough of that life in general.

I stare woodenly at the empty glass in front of me as I lean back against Tuttle's recliner. Maybe she was supposed to go but her flight got delayed. Or she must have had something to do with school so she couldn't make it, right? There had to be certain reasons why.

The door opens and I stop thinking for a moment. There is a familiar shade of brown attached to a petite woman.

The heart beats. Slow. Fast. It nearly stops.

It sinks. So do I. Sinking deeper and deeper into this trap of waiting.

It isn't her.

"Fuck." I mutter, now the possibility of her not coming becomes all the more real. The longer I stay here, the more obvious it becomes. The seconds are magnified. I become tenser and tenser.

I don't like it, but I stay.

Blaine glances at me from across the room and I give him a questioning look. His blue eyes drown me in sympathy as he shakes his head.

I feel the following:

Dejection. Anger. Rage. Depression. Denial. Sorrow. Confusion. Anxiety.

Kathryn is gone.

-0-0-0-

"Hi, I'm—"

"Fuck off."

The party's almost over, the majority of the guests are either stoned, drunk, passed out or have left. The loud music seemed to course through my veins, pounding, disturbing, and distorting my screaming thoughts of rejection. Damn Kathryn.

"You hate her, Valmont?"

Tuttle must have seen my expression because he offers me another drink which I shove away from me in disgust. (Disgust at myself for being too happy too eager too fucking hopeful for the most unavailable and callous woman alive.) Oddly enough, he looks sober. I hate that he does. Through his sobriety the pity reflected in his eyes serve as a particularly harsh and brutal reality that I wasted my time even anticipating and preparing for this night. I should have never left Kathryn a week ago; I should have fought to break through her just like I did when I got her to cry. I should have struggled with her, I should have barred her from opening that door and never have thought of giving her a week to recuperate.

I had her at that moment, I knew it and yet I chose to be like a pussy and to be all noble and gallant.

Fuck that. See where it's gotten me?

The hope begins to be replaced by a steadily growing hatred. As resentment began to fill me, I seriously considered the thought of punching Tuttle's concerned face. I would have preferred it if he mocked me or made fun of me. I could handle that. I could handle a few snide remarks about me looking like a total loser seated alone, looking like an overeager idiot whenever the door opens. I'll take that all in. What I can't handle, however, is the compassion Tuttle is displaying. When he pities me, the reality of my situation becomes all the more clear. When I see Tuttle not getting thrashed at his own party like he did during his previous ones, I know that it is only because he has somehow acknowledged the large possibility of Kathryn not showing up.

"Valmont?" he is persistent, that Tuttle.

"What?"

The music isn't as loud as it should be. I want to drown in it, to be swallowed by the rhythmic beats in hopes that I will come out of it as the man I was before all this happened. I would even prefer that. I want to be the arrogant son of a bitch player who prided his reputation above anything else. I wanted to be the Sebastian Valmont I was before I ever read Annette's manifesto, I wanted to be the nonchalant stepbrother who sometimes gave in to his stepsister's advances. It was a lesser complicated thing between Kathryn and I.

I don't want this grief, this feeling of crashing and burning into the unknown. I don't want to give anybody else the decision that would ultimately affect my happiness. I don't want anybody else to be in control of how my life ends up. I don't want this emotion, this God awful frustrating and annoying pain.

I don't want to worry about whether or not a single female would show up when I had others to pursue. I don't want to feel this way, to have her voice, her hurt tone, her screams, her moans, her words all play again and again in my head. I don't want this. I don't want her. I don't want to want her. I don't want to feel this way about her, or about anybody for that matter.

What I really wanted, what I really wished I could do instead was to have Amanda with me. Not for reasons that you think, but because her companionship is the only thing I value and her companionship is the only one that will not threaten my sanity.

Tuttle would only look at me with pity and I wouldn't be able to bear it. I find that despite my popularity, I lack genuine confidants. But Amanda, I can be assured of will never leave. Never betray. Are you asking me if I love her? No, no, you mustn't misconstrue my thoughts. I am through with that word, that hateful, deceitful word. Fuck love. With Amanda there is always that sense of understanding, how can we fall in love when we have nothing left to give? Nothing left to offer but physical gratifications?

"Do you hate her?"

He's really trying, that old friend Kathryn and I have. He's one of the many things I have in common with her.

Finally, I decide to respond.

"Yeah."

I'd like a cigarette but I've run out. Five cigarettes, she says? I'll exceed her. I'll wait longer. This is just another game. We're better at games, that woman and I.

He nods. He understands. He almost always does. But not exactly. Does he really know how the seconds seem to stretch into an entire eternity at this period of waiting?

"I'm sure she has her reasons."

He's playing the therapist again. The understanding friend. The gay confidante. _It'll be okay, Valmont. Things will work out, you'll see._

I can almost hear him say all these, but I don't believe him.

"Sure she does. She's a cold hearted bitch. I think I never really loved her. I think I just wanted her back because she was great in bed."

Sharp words. I hate you, Kathryn. My tongue almost bleeds when I release the knives that take a stab at her character. It's too bad I don't believe what I'm saying.

I take another drink. I drown out Tuttle's voice. _She might show up, Sebastian. The party isn't over ye_t.

There's still time.

Time. There was only that word, that clock, that race to closure. A sprint to the end of this entire problem.

Give me at least that, Kathryn. Have a shred of heart. Give me the empathy I never gave you.

He continues reasoning with me, trying to pull me from drowning in my hatred. I never listen. I see through all his pathetic sentiments, I see through all his _'Kathryn loves you, she really does'_ and _'You just have to give her some space, some time.'_

"She really loves me, Tuttle? How do you know that? Were you there that night at the Hamptons? Were you there that night Annette died? Were you there with us when we were in bed? Were you inside her head?"

He's quiet now. Aware of my temper. The flaring of my nostrils. The inferno ignited by waiting.

"Yeah." I slam my glass down the table and the force nearly shatters it. "That's what I thought. You can't tell me these things, Tuttle. Do you honestly think I'll feel better after hearing that? Do you really think I'll leave with a smile on my face just because you said that Kathryn really loved me? You might know us, fuck, you may have even grown up with us, but it doesn't and will never make you an authority of who we are and what we feel."

It's four in the morning now. Fifteen glasses of alcohol and five cigarettes. I don't feel inebriated at all. I hate that I don't. I should feel nothing, but what is this persistent monster that always nags and nags me?

Ah, yes. That feeling of having nothing. Fuck you, Kathryn. Fuck you and your empathy. Go to hell.

Tuttle looks hurt at my angry reply but I don't apologize. Instead, I stand up and look down at him. Our friend. Always trying to build the bridges Kathryn and I burn.

"Looks like your party's over. Happy Birthday, Tuttle."

He runs a hand through his hair, "It's not over for you. You're still waiting."

I reach deep into my pocket and pull out my car keys, feeling like my internal organs were all made of lead.

"Not anymore." I reply, clapping his shoulder with one hand before disappearing into the crowd.

-0-0-0-

(I enter the house, once again flooded in almost darkness. The doorman gives me a nod, which I ignore. I am lost in my own thoughts, drowning, falling; slipping into this finality I've been presented.)

When I was seven I went on a cruise with my parents and their friends, the Carmichaels. The Carmichaels had a son and his name was Parker, I don't know where he is now because he moved away when I was thirteen. But anyway, we were in the middle of sea anchored for a moment while Parker, being the boisterous one between the two of us, wasted no time in changing into his swimming trunks. He ran to the open area of the yacht and jumped with a big, rather loud scream.

I remember everybody looking fondly at him, little Parker Carmichael the apple of everybody's fucking eye.

_As his blond head popped up from the surface, he motioned for me to jump in and join him._

_"Jump, Sebastian! The water's great!"_

I should explain. You see, at age seven I have just learned how to swim. Therefore, I was not that confident of my own abilities yet. Preceding my swimming lessons, I had drowned exactly three times so I've had an odd fear of swimming. To my seven year old eyes, I saw the ocean as this thick, sparkling blue water that looked enticing yet in reality would swallow you up the moment you touched the surface. I felt what it was like to drown, to have the water fill your lungs while you sank, to flail and kick and fight and still go under.

(I walk slowly, already contemplating on whether or not to stay the night in this cursed house where everything is a reminder of her. Her and her smooth back, the object of my love and obsession and affection.)

I had shuffled my feet, ignoring the sudden loud beating of my heart. Parker gesticulated wildly again, swimming around, trying to make me envious of the fun he was having. Well, what if I drowned? What if somebody from under grabbed my leg? What if I get caught into something and I won't be able to remember what I've been taught? What if Parker won't be able to save me? Why would I jump into this big mercurial blanket of uncertainty when it bore the possibility of my immediate demise?

(Past the hallway, past the dining table, past the room where Kathryn had a talk with Mrs. Caldwell and Cecile so long ago.)

_"You gotta jump, Valmont! You gotta try!"_

(**Wait**. I step back. Retract. Retrace. Something's different about that room.)

_Parker called for me again to join him, to just get over myself and jump. What's wrong with me? I've had lessons, I could do this._

(That's Kathryn's jacket hanging on the chair.)

_I stepped with much hesitation on the edge of the yacht; it wasn't that big of a jump. Just a few feet. The sun's rays made the water gleam, little bits of liquid diamonds just waiting to be felt._

(That's her purse on the table.)

_"What're you afraid of? Don't tell me you're scared!"_

_"I'm not!"_

_"So jump!"_

(That's a half finished glass of vodka right next to her purse. I pick it up. The ice has melted. The liquid is lukewarm. Heart pounding, blood rushing to every part of my body but my heart, and my fingers have gone cold. There's a lip print from her lipstick. I put it down. I run. Not to escape, but to face. Past the paintings, past the photos, past everything.)

_"I-I'm waiting!"_

_"For what?"_

(Then I'm in front of her room. There's the faintest sound of Bach inside. I take in a sharp breath. My anger is forgotten, my anxiety renewed.)

_"I don't know!"_

_"You can't just stand there forever, you idiot! You have to jump! We're not gonna be here for long!"_

(I raise my fist. One. Two. Three knocks. I hear her moving about inside her room. I wipe the sweat that had somehow begun to manifest itself on my forehead. My hands feel clammy. I tug at my sweater, trying to get some air into my lungs. I'm drowning without water.)

_"I'm gonna drown if I jumped!"_

_"No, you're not! Don't be stupid! You're not going to let yourself drown!"_

(The door opens. Just two inches. Then there she was. Real. Alive. Vibrant. All five feet three inches of her standing before me. We stare at each other for a moment before her green eyes survey my appearance. I'm disheveled. My hair is unruly and I'm in terrible need of a haircut. My face itches from the stubble I've grown through all this worrying, and my clothes look rumpled for some odd reason. Her eyes are wide; large. Green pools of scrutiny. She doesn't look angry. In fact, she looks like she's been waiting for me to come home.

That's a nice thought I indulge in. The words offer happiness to my otherwise restless mind. I say it again: She's been waiting for me to come home.

She's. Been. Waiting. For. Me.

"Hi." I say quietly. Angry words of_ cold hearted bitch where were you I waited for so long I hate you I wish I never met you I wish you never came to Monte Carlo_ were all replaced by: You're here.

Bach's music continues playing as she finally blinks once. Twice. Her small hands rest on her sides. Her silk nightgown with the hem resting just above her knees. Bare feet. Her toenails are platinum. Mouth pursed.

Face completely devoid of makeup. She looks tired. I can see the faint outlines of the dark circles under her green eyes. Her long hair is pulled up in a careless bun. The smoke from an unattended cigarette resting on a crystal ashtray trails up the air. Order is forgotten. Words of apologies and love and hope are inessential. The burnt scarves rise from the ashes as though they were phoenixes being reborn. Masks are placed carefully on her desk to be put on the following day. I see it clearly in my mind. Porcelain perfection. The destroyer of lives and the beautiful creature who supposedly had no heart.

She doesn't reply. She only continues looking at me and slowly, she steps back and she opens the door wider.

It started with a crack, a glimpse of her looking tired and drawn and delicate. She opens it. Wider. Wider.

She takes a few steps back to give me room. Still staring at me. Waiting.

Her mouth opens.

"I'm not going to make it easy for you."

Her voice is still. Calm. Not threatening, merely warning. Checking to see if I'm sure. If I could be brave enough to venture back into the darkness with her.

A pinprick of light catches my attention. A fleeting chance, fast and sharp edged. I might bleed if I grab it.

Tuttle's words echo in my head. Dear old friend. Bridge builder.

_"Is this where the Big Gesture comes in, Valmont? Are you even ready for something like that? Because once you do this, you do realize that she's not going to give you another chance, don't you?"_

In the span of almost two years now, I have thought about this. What happens next? She's still looking at me, gauging my reaction. This moment is comprised of all the months I've spent without her. I don't give her a glimpse of what I'm thinking. Up until that moment she never allowed me the luxury of the same thing.

And then there's Amanda. Beautiful, young blue eyed Amanda. Who knows where I would be if it had not been for her maintenance of my sanity?

_"You have to stop running, Sebastian."_

Ah, dear sister I've stopped and this is where I ended up.

The light dims steadily as she mistakes my lack of motion for hesitation. It morphs into an insect of some sort. A dragonfly flitting about with wings made of razor blades. It's beautiful. Nothing else will ever compare to it. It flies in circles, up and about, within my reach. If I take it my skin might break. It might struggle. I might hurt it. Or it might wound me. Deeply.

But I take it. Greedily. Gratefully. One step. Forward. Then another. And another. There's no other way to move than north.)

_"Come on, Sebastian!"_

As I close the door behind me, in my mind I see the seven year old version of myself with bent knees, young face full of grim determination. I jumped, and for a moment, for that brief moment I was airborne.

_There was a sinking feeling of fear as gravity began to rule over me and I plummeted into the water with a loud splash. There is a split second of regret and worry as the coldness envelops me, but it disappears._

_Uncertainty. I am swimming in it._

_A few feet in front of me Parker cheered me on. You jumped. Good for you, Sebastian._

_I sank for the first few seconds, but then my limbs jerk to life and I move my legs. Stay afloat, Valmont._

_This is where you apply everything you've learned._

I am not going to drown.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Enjoy! One last chapter (Epilogue) to upload!**


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